Rose's Thorns
by reallydesiredusername
Summary: At 11 most witches are preparing to go to Hogwarts to learn about magic. Rose never even dreamed of going there. She was preoccupied by her mother's abuse while she was a captive in her own house. When she's finally freed she discovers a new world full of magic, adventure, and most of all friendship. Follows Rose through all the books Warning: abuse, torture (all the way through)
1. Chapter 1

My hands hurt.

They have for a few hours now, of course. It's nothing unusual. Just a nuisance. It usually happens when I scrub the kitchen floor, or dining room floor, or... Any room in the house, really. They're quite large.

And quite a pain to clean, of course. Especially since I use only a rough sponge that cuts into my palm whenever I use it. Mother claims that it cleans better, and says that I should stop complaining and get back to work. But I secretly suspect that the sponge is just a way of hurting me in an unusual way. It happens more often than I care to admit.

"Rosaline!" my mother's sharp voice calls from the doorway.

I stand up straight, as I am always supposed to do in her presence, unless she tells me otherwise. She doesn't do that often. My eyes take a quick peek at her before looking at the ground, where they should always be while talking to Mother.

Mother looks like me, in my opinion. We both have blonde hair, but hers is cleaner and shinier. Our blue eyes are also a shared trait, I think. From the few times I've seen my reflection in objects around the house, I'm pretty sure I'm right. We have different skin colors, though. I'm pale, from always staying inside, except when I do a few days of gardening in the summer. Mother is tanner, but not by too much. She's always working, so she never gets much sun either. I'm skinnier than her, but not in a good way. My ribs poke out and I barely have any muscle on my arms or legs. Mother is healthier, so she doesn't have the same problem. She always has enough to eat and new clothes to wear.

Mother, in short, is much more beautiful than I am.

She's wearing dark robes today, black, I think. The room is always so dim, it's hard to tell. Her hair is up in her usual severe bun, and her lips are her favorite dark red color. I would know. I found the lipstick for her in her makeup room this morning.

"Are you done with the floor yet?" she asks. "You still have dusting to do!"

"Of course, Mother," I reply quietly. "The floors are almost done. This is the last room. Then I'll move on to dusting."

"Continue with scrubbing as I'm talking, then," she snaps. I nod and kneel down, ignoring the sharp pain in my hands. The quicker I get this done, the better. "Forget about the dusting for today, since you're being so slow. I'm going out."

"Yes, Mother," I reply, reaching the last corner of the room. Curiosity gets the best of me, though I try so hard to contain the question. "Where are you going?"

"That's none of your business!" she tells me. I cringe and continue cleaning. I'm going to pay for that one later. "Anyway, are you done yet? I don't have all day."

"One more moment," I promise, cleaning up the last bit of dirt. I wipe my brow and set the sponge down, relieved. That's all for today. "Alright, that's it."

"Good," Mother tells me. "Get up and follow me."

I obey without question, and know where we are going from the moment I take the first step. It is no surprise when I get there.

My room isn't nearly as grand as the rest of the house. In fact, it's barely the size of a broom closet. Dimly lit and dirty, it's possibly the only part of the house I haven't cleaned. There is no bed. I sleep on the floor instead. It isn't bad when you get used to it, actually.

"Inside," Mother barks.

I duck my head and fit inside the small space. I have to bend over when I get inside, as I have since I turned seven. It's a very small room.

"You disobeyed a rule a few minutes ago," Mother tells me.

I nod, getting nervous.

"I'm sorry," I say desperately. "It won't happen again."

"That's what you told me the last time," Mother points out. "And the time before that. As usual, I'm going to need stronger reinforcement."

"No!" I exclaim, panicking. My hands stretch out in a placating gesture. "Please, I'll do better!"

Mother clicks her tongue three times.

"What a pathetic sight," she coos. I cringe as she brings her wand out, a black colored piece of wood. There is no saving myself now. "Crucio!"

I scream. It's a long and unbroken sound that I can never believe I am able to make. Of course, the pain helps make the sound. Torture doesn't begin to describe it. True, it may not be bloody, but I can still feel dull knives piercing every inch of my body. I can still feel the tremendous pressure that I fight so hard against. While under this curse, I can think of nothing but pain. It blocks out all of my senses, until it's just the two of us.

Just like it always is.

Suddenly it stops, and I find myself on the floor of my room. I'm gasping for breath and feel something sticky on my arm. Blood. I must have scraped it when I fell. I look up at Mother, just then realizing that I'm crying. She stares down at me coldly.

"Next time, obey my rules," she tells me, before slamming the door.

I hear the click of the lock and Mother's footsteps going down the corridor.

I am alone.

/

It's boring, being cramped into a small space for hours. I never have anything to do, other than try to ignore the stiffness in my body. There is a limited amount of light trickling in through a crack in the door that I usually look out of. I can't see much, but seeing something is enough.

"Lovely, lovely, lovely night," I sing softly to myself, the hesitant way I always do when I am alone. "Stars and moon are shining bright. If I sleep before the dawn, I know I am doing wrong. Never gonna be alone, on this lovely night. On this lovely night."

I've heard Mother sing this song to me before, when I was so young that I only remember a blur. When I sing it, I always think of safety and comfort. The way things were, almost ten years ago.

Of course, being eleven, I don't remember much of that time.

CRASH.

Startled, I jump, hitting my head on the ceiling. What was that? I look through the crack and can barely see the front door, wide open. There is too much light. I have to squint, but I can make out a dark figure stepping into the house.

That's not Mother.

I'm unable to tear myself away from that crack, so I watch as more and more people flood into the house, their wands up and faces grave. They are all yelling. I can't quite make out any of their faces, but it's clear that they aren't here to help me. Why would they look ready to fight if they were?

The situation sinks in as I step back, away from the crack. They're gonna kill me. I'm gonna die.

I back up until the cold stone wall is against my back, and crouch down, hugging my knees to my face. There's nowhere to run to. There's nowhere to hide. All I can do is wait and hope.

"Spread out!" a rough voice orders above the yells, sounding very near to my door. "Take anything that looks suspicious!"

I whimper and cover my ears as the yelling becomes louder. They're gonna find me. I'm gonna die.

There's a sudden thundering of footsteps running down the halls of the house. It nearly kills me, thinking of how hard I worked to clean those floors only a few hours earlier. When Mother comes back, she's gonna be very mad.

"Wait, is this a door?" the same gruff voice from before asks. I cringe and cover my mouth so that I won't make a sound. "I didn't even notice it."

"Yeah, I think so," an unfamiliar voice replies. "Think anything interesting is behind it?"

"Only one way to find out."

I don't have time to blink before the heavy wooden door crashes open, showering me with light. I scream and cover my eyes, terrified. I'm gonna die now. They're gonna kill me.

"What the-" the rough voice starts, then cuts himself off.

I peer through my fingers, trying to get a glimpse of these people before they kill me. The one who just spoke is very tall, with dark hair and eyes. He looks very strong and intelligent, even though he has a look of complete confusion on his face. The other is slightly shorter, with lighter hair and chocolate brown eyes. He has the same expression as who I assume is his boss. It looks as if they could kill me in a second, and have no regrets later.

But there are only two. If I can run and get a head-start, they won't be able to catch me. They don't know the house like I do. They haven't cleaned it from top to bottom daily. They don't stand a chance.

I slowly take my hands away from my face, shaking in fear. My eyes dart around the exit, where I can see the tiniest gap between the two men. Running footsteps begin echoing in the hallways again. I need to move.

So I take off, squeezing between the men and sprinting down the hallway - the one without people coming the other way.

"Come back!"

That's not gonna happen.

They're following me, but I still have an advantage over them. I know the house and have a head start. But I make a mistake when I lead them down a long, straight hallway.

"Stupefy!" a voice exclaims.

I shriek as a bright red light shoots past my ear and hits the green curtains. I've never heard that spell before, and don't know what it does. I don't want to find out.

Apparently it's a spell that the people liked to cast, because red lights are continually being shot at me. They all miss and I am able to make it to the end of the hallway in one piece. With a quick sigh of relief, I pull on the door handle.

It doesn't budge.

I pull again, hoping that it was just a little hard to open, but no luck. My face drains of all color and I turn around to face the large group, my mouth wide open in terror.

"We aren't going to hurt you," the leader tells me, taking a step forward. I notice that he is gripping his wand tightly, keeping it up and ready.

"I don't believe that," I say quietly, flattening myself against the door. I can't look the man in the eye, no matter how hard I try. That's just how I was raised. It's a habit.

"Please, just come with us," he pleads, sounding exhausted. "If you don't come willingly, we'll have to use force."

I shake my head, petrified. I can't possibly win against ten people, I know that. But I don't have a choice. I have to try.

"I'm sorry, then," the man says, sounding honestly disappointed. I tilt my head, confused as to why he sounds so sad that I didn't go willingly. He doesn't care about me. I'm just a stranger to him.

The others take his statement as an order to attack, and there are suddenly red lights everywhere. I squeal and stumble behind a sculpture of Mother just as a spell hits the place where my head was. I look at the spot for a moment, wide eyed and terrified, before looking in the direction of the hall I just came down. I misjudged my speed before, but I won't this time. If I am smart and hide behind other statues and objects, I'll be able to make it down the hall and hopefully outside. I'll be fine from there, I think.

So I sprint. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not very fast. Most of my life has been spent cramped in a room made for cleaning supplies, or getting tortured. I haven't exactly been training for track and field.

I try, though. I try so hard, and I almost make it. The door is right there, I'm reaching out to open it - and I get pulled back. Tears begin to form in my eyes. I was so close!

I turn my head to take a look at the person who grabbed my wrist and see an entirely new face. She has auburn hair and harsh looking blue eyes, and keeps my arm in a firm grip. The woman looks at me coldly, then begins dragging me back to the rest of the group.

"Let me go!" I yell, clawing at her with my free arm. She grabs that one, too. "LET ME GO!"

It doesn't matter how hard I struggle, since I end up standing before the group anyway, feeling terrified. I still don't believe they won't hurt me. I can't bring myself to.

"Stop struggling," the woman holding me orders in a rough voice. I don't obey and she sighs. "What do we do with her?"

"I guess we'll have to Stun her and take her back to the ministry," the leader told her with a heavy voice.

"Fair enough."

I am shoved to the floor, where I lie in a heap, unable to bring myself to stand back up, or do anything. I merely shut my eyes as I hear the spell being cast.

"Stupefy!"

/

"Do you know why you're here?" I'm asked. It's the first question I really listen to since I woke up. No, I don't. I haven't got a clue.

So I shake my head, looking straight ahead, not at the woman who stares at me as if I am in a zoo. It's beginning to get uncomfortable.

"We need to answer questions about your mother," the woman explains in a too calm voice. "It's of utmost importance."

"Is she okay?" I ask immediately.

"She's been arrested."

I look over at the woman, who frankly looks like she could do without a couple meals, for the first time in the conversation. She can't be telling the truth. Mother has always been so powerful. I'm not saying she never did anything illegal because, well, look at the shape I'm in. But I never expected that she would ever get arrested.

"Why?" I ask eagerly. Perhaps too much so. The lady looks at me strangely for a moment.

"Usage of dark magic, lying to the authorities, and death eater status were only a few of the infractions," the woman finally tells me.

I already know Mother is a death eater. Well, was, I suppose. Voldemort has been gone for almost ten years now. I may not know much, but mother always complained about it around the house. Sometimes it was the cause of some painful treatments.

"So, all we need to do is ask you few questions," the woman tells me in a monotone. I nod. I've never done anything wrong. I have nothing to worry about. "First, what is your name?"

"Rosaline."

"Last name?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" the woman asks, sounding truly surprised.

"Mother never told me," I admit.

"Your mother's last name is Cambione, so that would be yours as well."

"I don't want it. I don't need a last name anyway. I don't want anything passed down through either of my parents' families. They're not too important, right? Last names?"

"Well," the woman begins uncomfortably. "Last names are a way of distinguishing people from everyone else and dividing them into families. They are rather important, so I don't know what you would do without one."

I think for a moment.

"Can I come up with my own last name?" The woman nods slowly, as if to humor me. "Laetus." Seeing the confused look on the woman's face, I try to explain. "It's Latin for happy. I used to see it around the house."

"I see," she lies, writing it down. "I'll see what I can do." She pauses for a moment. "Do you know who your father is?"

"No."

"Unfortunately, neither do we. All such records of your mother's have been mysteriously destroyed."

I sigh.

"Are we done yet?" I whine, looking out the window. I want to go. Unfortunately, I don't know where to go to.

"No," the woman tells me bluntly. "I have more questions. When your mother set out yesterday afternoon, did she say where she was going?"

"No."

"Did you know what she was doing?"

"No," I repeat, getting frustrated.

"Did you help your mother at all with her work?"

"For the last time, no!" I yell, standing up. Even though I'm still a foot shorter than the woman, she backs away in surprise. "I don't know what's going on, okay? I wasn't on Mother's side! I was never on Mother's side! How could I be? Do you know what she did to me?" I laugh, sounding insane, even to myself. "No, of course you don't. Because you never asked! You aren't concerned about me, a child, being in the hands of an evil witch! You only care about whether or not I helped her, if I'm on the dark side, too. Well, I'm proud to say I'm not. It's because of her that I'm not." I look into the woman's wide eyes, my annoyance ebbing away. "You've heard of the Cruciatus Curse, haven't you?" She nods, the blood draining from her face. "Knives? Starvation? How about good old fashioned beatings? I'm not going into detail, but I assume you understand?" The woman stands up, looking disgusted and shocked.

"This is important," she tells me. "I'm sorry, I must go and inform the Court of this."

She sprints out of the door, leaving me alone in a locked room once again.

"I take that as a yes," I sigh and sit down on the dingy cot once again.

/

I go three days in complete solitude. Not a single person comes by to check on me. So I sit alone by the window, wishing I could leave. Or at the very least, have some company. I haven't had a visitor since the woman. My meals are even shoved in through a trap door.

Even though I wish for company while eating, I have to admit, it is the best food I've ever tasted. The things I'm used to eating are not nearly as tasteful or plentiful as these. I ate so much the first night that I had trouble keeping the food down. Only a week ago, I ate only burnt porridge and water. Maybe a piece of rock hard bread every now and then. Even so, I didn't dare steal a taste of Mother's meals while I cooked it. It wasn't worth the punishment. But here I can eat roast beef and vegetables from a warm, black chunk of plastic with little cubby like things that the food is in. Some bites may be warmer or colder than others, but it is still such an incredible meal to eat.

Then there's a knock on the door. No, I must be hearing things. Not even the woman from three days ago knocked. It must be from next door. It can't possibly be for me.

 _Knock knock._

There's no question. That knock is on my door. But who's doing it?

"Um, you're welcome to come in, but I can't exactly open the door. It's locked," I tell whoever's knocking.

It doesn't seem like a problem to them, because I hear the knob turning not even a moment later. Still sitting by the window, I tilt my head as the door opens. The man who comes in is unfamiliar to me. He has a long silver beard and is wearing robes, just like every other witch and wizard around. But there's something different about him. This man, whoever he is, seems to be friendlier than any other person in the ministry. It's his twinkling eyes that give it away. The man has the kindest eyes of anyone I've ever met. Granted, I haven't met many people.

"Hello, Rosaline," he greets me as he comes into the room.

"Hello," I reply cautiously. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Of course, I wouldn't expect you to know. Your mother doesn't seem as if she would tell you about such things," the man says. I nod in agreement. "I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You do know about Hogwarts, correct?"

"Yeah. It's where witches and wizards go to learn how to use magic and stuff," I describe to the best of my ability.

"Essentially, yes," he agrees.

"So, why are you here?" I ask, not beating around the bush.

He smiles, somehow making his eyes twinkle even more.

"I'm here to give you something." He pulls an envelope out of what seems like thin air and hands it to me. I look at the crest on the seal of the envelope and shake my head in shock.

"This must be a mistake," I tell Dumbledore sadly, trying to hand the letter back. "Mother told me that she sent an owl to Hogwarts saying she would homeschool me."

Dumbledore refuses to take the letter back.

"It isn't a mistake," he says gently. "Due to... Recent circumstances that have arisen-"

"You mean me finally admitting that Mother tortured me?"

"Ah, yes, I suppose," Dumbledore says uncomfortably. "There was a debate, but I eventually made everyone see reason. Your mother is not fit to be your legal guardian, and is therefore unable to make decisions like that. So I am now offering this to you. At Hogwarts, you won't be alone. You'll have friends, family even."

"Nobody wants me as their family."

"That's not true. Whatever house you are sorted into - they will be your family. Perhaps you will be closer to some than others, but they will be your family regardless."

"What if I'm not sorted?"

"Everyone's sorted, my dear."

I pause.

"But I know absolutely nothing about magic," I admit.

"Neither do the Muggleborns that attend."

He has a point.

"And what if I do choose to stay here?" I ask. "What if I don't go to Hogwarts?"

"Then the Ministry will take care of you," Dumbledore explains. "The last few days will most likely become your life. They won't want you out of their sight. If you go to Hogwarts, we will still be required to watch over you, but you will have more freedom."

"So I'm not being put up for adoption?" I ask, confused.

"No," Dumbledore says. "Hogwarts will be your guardian, instead of a single person."

I nod, knowing which choice was the obvious one.

"I'll go," I decide without hesitation.

"Splendid," Dumbledore says, sounding delighted. I open the letter quickly and take out the supply list. My mouth quickly curves into a frown.

"I can't pay for all this," I protest, looking through the list of required books and clothing.

"You can, actually," Dumbledore tells me. "You own your mother's Gringotts vault now. Everything in it is yours. And your mother is far from poor."

"When am I getting all this?" I ask. "The ministry won't let me out of its sight until I leave for Hogwarts. How will I be able to buy everything?"

"Tomorrow morning you'll be escorted to the Leaky Cauldron by a ministry official," Dumbledore begins. Seeing my blank stare, he quickly adds, "The Leaky Cauldron is the entrance to Diagon Alley, where everything can be bought. They will drop you off, but you have to stay in the building until Hagrid comes in."

"Who's Hagrid?"

"He works at Hogwarts. You won't be able to miss him. He will most likely have another child your age with him. Hagrid will escort you both around Diagon Alley."

I nod.

"Well then, Rosaline," Dumbledore says, turning to leave. "I'll see you when term begins."

"Goodbye," I say softly before the door shuts.

I look out the window and wait for a few minutes for it to sink in.

I'm going to Hogwarts!


	2. Chapter 2

As I sit at a small table in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron, I can't help but remember. The way Mother cackled whenever I screamed in agony... The way my stomach would feel like it was collapsing in on itself after days without food... The ache I still get as I wake up in the morning.

I know these things won't fade away. Not for a long time, at least. No, the memories will stay with me forever. But I'm safe now. Well, I hope I am at least. I must be.

I'm interrupted from my thoughts by the creak of the door opening. I turn, just as I do whenever it opens, hoping it's the Hagrid person I am supposed to stay with. When I finally understand what I'm seeing, the name is driven from my mind as my mouth drops open.

It is a huge man, and I don't mean huge as in just taller than average, I mean _huge_. He is more than twice the size of me, with a huge, tangled beard and beetle black eyes.

I sink down in my chair without realizing it.

"The usual, Hagrid?" the barkeeper asks, smiling at the common customer.

So this is Hagrid. Dumbledore wasn't lying when he said I wouldn't be able to miss him.

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," Hagrid replies, clapping a large hand on the shoulders of the small boy next to him.

That's the first time I notice the boy. He has messy, jet black hair and eyes as green as my Mother's old jewels. I notice that he seems a little overwhelmed by everything that is going on and smile. I'm glad I'm not the only one.

"Good Lord," the bartender gasps, leaning over the bar to get a good look at the boy. "Is this - can this be -?" I tilt my head in confusion. Why did the entire pub go silent? "Bless my soul," he finally whispers, collecting himself. "Harry Potter... What an honor."

As the old man hurriedly emerges from behind the bar to shake Harry's hand, I freeze. No, this can't be Harry Potter. Not the Harry that Mother would constantly complain about for killing the Dark Lord. That's not possible.

Yet, it is.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back," the bartender tells Harry, tears in his eyes.

I get up slowly and cautiously, but stay by my table. I won't go over to him and Hagrid until they are about to leave for Diagon Alley. If I go over before that... Well, I don't want people to stare at me like that, too.

I watch silently from the shadows as Harry is engulfed by the entire pub. I think I see him shaking hands with everyone, but I can't be sure. There are too many people around him.

A man in a large turban makes his way to Harry as I begin to step forward sluggishly, not wanting to be surrounded by so many people. I stand on the edge of the crowd, waiting. Then Hagrid spots me.

"Rosaline!" he exclaims, sounding overjoyed. "I was wonderin' where yeh were!"

I smile tentatively as the crowd parts before me, clearing a path to Harry and Hagrid. I hurry to the pair and Hagrid sends the crowd away, ready to leave.

I follow him out the door into a small courtyard with only a trash can and a few weeds in it. Looking around, I frown. This clearly isn't Diagon Alley.

"Harry, this is Rosaline," Hagrid introduced. We look at each other awkwardly.

"Hi," I say softly, looking out the ground, like I always do when I'm speaking.

"Hello," Harry says, louder than me. I peek up and see that he is looking at Hagrid with a clear question on his face. What is she doing here?

"Yer both gonna be firs' years when you go to Hogwarts," Hagrid explains. I smile at Harry shyly and he grins back, still seeming confused, but genuine. "You both need school supplies, so since I was already bringing yeh, Harry, Dumbledore told me to take Rosaline, too. That alright?"

"Yeah," Harry agrees. "Of course."

Hagrid beams.

"Wonderful," he says. "How's the Ministry treatin' yeh, Rose?"

"Fine," I reply, not even pausing at the new nickname. I have to admit, it's kind of nice. Mother would always call me by my full name. Rose is almost a… A new identity, in a way. "The food's good."

"Bah, that garbage?" Hagrid laughs. "Just wait 'til yeh get ter Hogwarts."

The Ministry food is garbage? Really? Well, it's not like I know much about food quality. I'm not surprised I was wrong. Of course, if the Ministry food seems so good to me, I wonder what the Hogwarts food tastes like.

"You know who Harry is, don't yeh?" Hagrid asks. I nod mutely and Hagrid smiles gently. He must know where I learned it. "Told yeh, didn't I, Harry? Told yeh you was famous."

Harry looks at me, turning bright red. I smile comfortingly, not really understanding what it's like to be famous, but trying to imagine.

"Three up... Two across..." Hagrid mutters in the meantime. "Right, stand back you two."

I don't understand, but I take a step backwards as Hagrid taps a brick three times with a pink umbrella. That's new to me.

Then, suddenly, the wall is moving, a hole growing in the middle. It stretches and stretches and just a moment later I'm looking at a large archway leading to a small cobblestone street that continually twists and turns until goes behind a tall building.

My mouth falls open on its own accord.

"Welcome," Hagrid says, "to Diagon Alley."

"Whoa..." I say in amazement as I step through the archway, the first one to do so. When I look back, the archway has shrunk back into a solid wall.

I start walking, forgetting to wait for Hagrid and Harry. There are so many shops filled with every magical item imaginable. I stop in front of a cauldron shop, staring at the displays in the window. As I look, I notice Harry and Hagrid walk up behind me. Hagrid says something about Harry and me needing cauldrons for school, but having to get our money first. To be honest, I'm not listening. I'm too busy soaking everything in.

We begin walking again, both me and Harry craning our necks to look at every little thing. I knew all of this existed in the first place, of course, but to actually see it... This is a miracle. There's just everything! Displays of books and brooms and potions... This has always been my life, but somehow, I feel as though I'm just beginning to experiencing it.

"Gringotts," Hagrid suddenly states.

I look straight in front of me to see an elaborate white building that easily dwarfs every other shop on the street. Standing next to its bronze doors, as if it is on guard duty, is a goblin, wearing a uniform of bright red and gold. I've never actually seen a real goblin before!

As we step through the huge marble doors, the goblin bows to me. To _me_ , a girl who was her mother's slave just days ago. Now I'm being treated like royalty… At least by this one goblin.

The inside of Gringotts is somehow even more impressive than the outside. My eyes don't know what to focus on. Maybe the hundred goblins sitting behind the long counter, or the busy doors, or the precious gems... I finally stop trying to take in everything at once and follow Hagrid up to the counter.

"Morning," he says to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's and Ms. Rosaline..." He pauses for a moment and looks over at me, wondering what to say for my last name, but I shrug.

"Er… Laetus is the name I chose," I tell him quietly. I see Harry look at me strangely from the corner of my eye and blush. I feel the need to apologize to him for not being normal.

"Ms. Rosaline Laetus's vaults."

"You have their keys, sir?"

"Got 'em here somewhere," Hagrid says, emptying the pockets of his large coat onto the counter. The goblin gives him a disgusted look, but Hagrid doesn't see.

"Got 'em," Hagrid finally says, holding up two very small golden keys.

The goblin leans over the desk and peers at the keys.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid adds importantly, sticking out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin reads the letter carefully for a few minutes, so Harry and I go back to staring around the giant hall.

"Have you ever seen something so..." I begin, struggling with finding the word. "So... Magnificent?"

"No, never," Harry agrees. "Did you know about all this before?"

I hesitate for a moment.

"Er... Yes and no," I admit.

"What does that mean?"

"It's a really long story. I've never seen any of this but I knew about most of it." Harry nods in understanding. "Is this new to you?"

"Yeah," he says. "I was raised by, er, Muggles."

"This must be really hard to understand," I say.

"It is."

"I can try to help you. I really don't know much, but I can try."

He smiles and I return the gesture.

"Thanks."

"It's no problem."

Did I just make a friend? I don't know, is that how you make friends? This is really confusing...

The goblin sends us down to all three vaults and Harry and I are both surprised and thrilled to find a small fortune in both our vaults, though mine was more. Mother must have been very rich before she got arrested. I wonder when her trial is.

The You-Know-What that Hagrid was sent to get turns out to be wrapped in a small, dirty package, so I am unable to see it. That's okay, though. I'm used to ignoring my curiosity.

Then Hagrid leaves Harry and me to go to Madam Malkin's shop alone to get our uniforms. Though nervous, we go in together. Madam Malkin is quite kind, however.

"Hogwarts, dears?" she asks. I nod and she smiles. "Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

We are lead to the back of the shop where another boy is already standing on a footstool, being attended to by one of Madam Malkin's assistants. He is pale with platinum hair and a scrunched up face.

The woman calls another assistant out, who places me on a stool next to Harry and slips a long black robe over my head. She then begins to pin it to the right length. She doesn't comment on how unhealthily skinny I am, thank goodness. I really don't feel like explaining.

"Hello," the platinum haired boy says. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," Harry replies for both me and him. I just nod.

"My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands," the boy says, sounding bored. His voice has a drawling feel to it. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

I've decided. I don't like him.

"Have either of you got your own broom?" he asks.

"No," I say this time, instead of Harry, my voice small and quiet.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No, not yet," I tell him. Of course I already know what Quidditch is. It's hard not to, even if I was secluded my entire childhood.

"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what Houses you two will be in yet?"

"Nobody is sorted until we get there," I point out. "How are we supposed to know?"

To be honest, I'm just trying to cover for Harry's lack of knowledge. He seems like the kind of person to get embarrassed if he doesn't know this. So I'll help him. I don't see why I shouldn't.

"Yeah, that's true," the boy agrees. "But I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"No, I would stay," I disagree angrily. "I don't see why a House would affect me wanting to be at Hogwarts, but if it does for you, then fine."

"Whatever," the boy says dismissively. He looks out the window. "I say, look at that man!"

Hagrid stands there, grinning at Harry and me, and pointing at three large ice cream cones to show why he can't come in. Oh, he didn't have to do that!

"That's Hagrid," I let Harry answer. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," the boy says, sounding amused. "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant isn't he?"

I clench my teeth, getting annoyed at the boy.

"He's the gamekeeper."

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," Harry says, his voice chilling the conversation.

"Do you?" the boy asks, sneering. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," Harry answers shortly. I look at the ground sadly.

"Oh, sorry." He doesn't sound like it. "And yours?" the boy asks me.

"None of your business," I tell him, ice on my voice.

"Were they our kind?" the boy persists.

"Mine were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean," Harry replies.

"And I still think it's none of your business," I tell him again, glaring.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you?" the boy continues as if he didn't hear me. "They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families."

"I think you should keep your opinion to yourself," I say, annoyed.

"Sorry, did I hurt your feelings?" the boy asks mockingly.

"Oh, no, not mine," I reply in the same sort of voice. "But if you go on saying those things, I might have to hurt your face."

The boy stares at me mutely as I walk out of the room, finally allowed to leave. Harry follows close behind.

We are silent for a while, him not really understanding what happened, me understanding too much. Mother was big on blood purity before she was arrested, too, but I never understood it. A wizard's a wizard, a person's a person. We aren't different. If everyone could get that through their thick skulls, the world will be so much better. But no, they have to cling to their stupid old beliefs.

Harry finally asks Hagrid about everything he didn't understand about the conversation and it's quickly cleared up. We then get all the school materials we need. Now all Harry and I just have to buy are our wands.

We go to a small shop Hagrid calls Ollivander's. The inside has thousands of boxes for wands stacked up to the ceiling. I can almost feel the magic radiating through this shop.

"Good afternoon," a soft voice greets us suddenly. Harry and Hagrid both jump, but I stay firmly on the ground. I don't usually get startled.

Mr. Ollivander is a very old man with wide, pale eyes, seeming to glow in the dimness of the shop. After we say hello, he goes over to Harry and recites his parents' wands. Then he starts going off about the Dark Lord and his wand, making Harry very uncomfortable. Hagrid is the next target and listens to Ollivander talk about his old wand. Then I'm up.

"Ah, Rosaline," Ollivander says, walking over to me. I shift uncomfortably. "Yes, yes, I remember your mother's wand. Blackthorn wood, eleven inches exactly, I remember. Quite uncommon, actually. Well, let's get started."

He begins measuring me, and wanders away as the tape measure continues on its own. I daydream as he tells about the cores and the uniqueness of his wands, but perk up as he begins to give me wands to test.

"Here, try this one," he says. "Vine and unicorn hair. Eight inches. Swishy. Give it a wave."

I move the wand around, but not a second later, he plucks the wand out of my hand and gives me another.

"Ebony and phoenix feather. Ten inches. Supple."

Again, it's rejected. I go through about five more wands before Ollivander seems to come up with an idea.

"Wait just a moment," he says before disappearing into the back. He came back a moment later with a long box in his hand. "Yew and… And thestral hair, twelve and a half inches. Supple."

As soon as I grab the wand, I know it's the one. It seems to know it too, because silver sparks begin flying from the tip immediately when I touch it. Ollivander gasps as I stare, mesmerized by the beauty.

"Incredible," he whispers. "I wouldn't have expected..."

"Expected what?"

"I've had this wand for many years, Rosaline. It is, in fact, much older than you are. I've tried it on many witches and wizards, but it refused to respond to all of them. I'd given up hope on matching it with anyone, but now it has chosen you."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I cannot say for certain, but I suspect it has something to do with its core. See, I never use thestral hairs in my wands, except for the one you are holding right now. It never seems to react well to the wood it was matched with. But somehow it bonded with the yew tree this wand was formed from. I do not know how, nor why, but it did. It is a similar situation as to why it chose you. This wand saw something in you that wasn't in any of the other witches or wizards that I tried it with. So I think it will be a powerful wand in your hands, though I doubt it will perform any magic in anyone else's."

"…Wow."

Ollivander proceeds to set about finding Harry's wand, making a mess of his shop in the process, while I ponder what he said. Something special in me? Like what, childhood trauma? I don't understand. There's absolutely nothing special about me, on the inside at least. I barely even know what I'm like, so how could my wand? No, I'm chalking this up to a lucky coincidence. Something special… Sure.

Finally, Harry is chosen by a Holly and Phoenix feather wand. Ollivander claims that this is interesting, because the core came from the same bird as the Dark Lord's wand core. I don't see how this can be helpful or hurtful, but it's cool that it happened.

Then we go back to the Leaky Cauldron, not quite ready to leave, but knowing we have to.

"I have to go back to the Ministry in five minutes," I sigh, staring at a clock on the wall. "I'm gonna need to wait in the here for someone to take me back there."

"Oh, alright. It was nice meeting you," Harry tells me, smiling. I smile back and wave as he and Hagrid walk through the door. I really don't know how I'm going to last a month waiting for school.


	3. Chapter 3

I am somehow able to survive another month in the ministry before I'm dropped off at King's Cross Station with my ticket, given the instructions to just walk straight through the center of platforms nine and ten. Maybe it sounds a bit ridiculous, but I try it out.

I wheel the cart with my trunk on it to the barrier between platforms nine and ten then look around to make sure nobody is watching. If this goes horribly wrong, I don't want any witnesses. Taking a deep breath, I start walking at a brisk pace. The wall comes closer and closer, I blink-

And I'm on the other side.

I look around in disbelief. It's so crowded! It's hard to believe that most of these people are going to Hogwarts with me. There are so many things going on, from a boy being scolded for losing his toad, to another boy with a crowd of people around him, looking at his box, to a girl bursting into tears because her older brother is leaving her. It is overwhelming to see so many people in one place. It's too loud. All I want to do is sit down in a quiet place and sing. It's not like I enjoy doing anything else. I quickly push my cart through the crowd, doing my best not to get pushed around, when I near the almost empty compartment at the end of the train. A young boy with black hair is struggling to get his trunk on board. Wait a second...

"Harry?" I ask softly, hoping that he will hear me. He turns around, dropping the trunk on his foot in the process.

"Ow!" he exclaims, trying to pick it up again. "Sorry. Hi, Rose."

I giggle and move forward to help him, but a red haired boy comes up to him before me.

"Want a hand?" he asks Harry.

"Yes, please," Harry replies.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

A boy identical to the one who just called him appears out of the crowd. They're twins, of course. The two of them get Harry's trunk tucked away in the corner of the compartment as I get mine out of the cart.

"Can I sit in this compartment, too?" I ask Harry as I lift up my trunk.

"Of course," Harry answers, sounding confused. Did I do something wrong? I don't understand friendship. Are we even friends yet?

I smile unsurely and step into the compartment, lifting the trunk up, too.

"Do you need help with that?" one of the twins asks. I shake my head.

"No, it's actually pretty light," I admit. "Nothing I can't handle. Thanks for the offer, though."

They turn to each other and shrug.

"No problem."

As Harry wipes his hair out of his eyes, I put my trunk next to his.

"What's that?" one of the twins asks suddenly. I turn around to see him pointing to Harry's scar and walk over to the group.

"Blimey," the other twin says. "Are you-?"

"He _is_. Aren't you?" the first one asks again.

"What?" asks Harry, confused.

"Harry Potter," the twins exclaim together.

"Oh him," Harry says first. He doesn't seem too comfortable. "I mean, yes, I am."

There's an awkward silence as the twins stare at Harry, who quickly turns red. It stretches on and on until I can't take it anymore.

"So... You two been to Hogwarts before?" I ask awkwardly, trying to save Harry. It's a few seconds before one of them responds, reluctantly taking his eyes off of Harry and looking at me.

"Yeah," he says. "We're third years."

"Really?" I reply, eager to keep whatever this is going. Harry still looks really uncomfortable. "Harry and I are first years, but I guess that's pretty easy to figure out. We're really looking forward to going."

"You'll love it, it's loads of fun," the other twin says, finally looking away from Harry as well.

I smile shyly.

"Fred?" a woman's voice calls through the train's door. "George? Are you there?"

"Coming Mum!" the same twin replies. He looks at Harry and me again. "We have to go. See you around."

"Bye."

They hop off the train with one last look at Harry.

"Wow, you really are famous aren't you?" I ask, turning to Harry.

"I guess so," he mumbles, looking out the window. I join him, hearing the conversation of the woman who called Fred and George off the train. She has a large family, all red heads. It's cute.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose," the woman tells the youngest boy, grabbing him and rubbing the end of his nose.

"Mum - geroff," Ron says, wriggling free.

"Ah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" asks either Fred or George. I grin. They're kind of funny.

"Shut up," Ron grumbles.

"Where's Percy?" the mother asks.

"He's coming now."

Another boy comes over, already in his Hogwarts robes. I notice a badge on his chest with the letter P on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he says. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves-"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" one of the twins asks, feigning surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," the other twin jokes. "Once-"

"Or twice-"

"A minute-"

"All summer-"

"Oh, shut up," Percy interrupts. He exchanges a few more words with his mother, then leaves. Harry and I continue to watch from the window, curious.

"Now, you two - this year, you behave yourselves," the mother says, turning to Fred and George. "If I get one more owl telling me you've - you've blown up a toilet or-"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks Mum."

I giggle quietly.

"It's not funny," their mother scolds. "And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," Ron tells them again.

"Hey, Mum, guess what?" says one of the twins. "Guess who we just met on the train?"

I realize that Harry is leaning back so they won't see him looking. I quickly do the same. I don't want them to think I'm a stalker or something.

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter!"

I look over at Harry.

"This is gonna get pretty old, isn't it," I predict. He nods.

"... Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there - like lightning," Fred explains. "He had a friend with him. Some blonde girl."

I narrow my eyes, offended. The way they talk about Harry sounds as if they respect him. When it comes to me, I'm not important.

"What was her name?" the mother asks.

"Er... Dunno," Fred admits. "Forgot to ask. She was really skinny, though. Looked a bit too skinny if I'm gonna be honest."

"Oh," the mother says quietly, sounding very sad all of a sudden.

"What? What is it?"

"Her name is Rosaline."

I lower my eyes to the ground, suddenly feeling awkward.

"And?"

"And nothing you need to know."

"But Mum!"

"It's a story for when you're older, George."

"Can't I just ask her?"

"No," she tells him sternly. "I'm sure she won't want to talk about it. It's a difficult subject. Just try to be kind to her, all right?"

"Okay." There's a pause, and I am aware that Harry is looking at me oddly. "I wonder if Harry remembers what You-Know-Who looks like."

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though either of them needs reminding of these things on their first day of school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

The whistle sounds and the three boys climb onto the train quickly, leaning out the window to kiss their mother and sister goodbye. Their younger sister starts to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls," one of the twins comforts her.

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mum."

The train begins to move. The mother waves to her boys while the sister starts sprinting after the train, eventually falling behind and waving.

"So that's what a mother is really like," I mutter.

"What?" Harry asks.

"What? Nothing?" I tell him.

He looks at me for a moment.

"What was the woman talking about outside?" he asks.

"It's nothing," I lie. "Not important."

"Rose-" Harry tries again.

"I'm not talking about it," I say, my voice shaking. Something about it makes Harry stop asking. I look out the window at the trees flying by. "Wow, would you look at that! Everything's going so fast!"

"Haven't you ever been on a train before?"

"No," I admit.

"Oh."

We sit in silence until the compartment door opens, revealing the young red haired boy from before.

"Anyone sitting here?" Ron asks, pointing to the open seat across from Harry and me. "Everywhere else is full."

"No, you can have it," I tell him politely. He sits down and I see him sneak a glance at Harry, then look out the window quickly.

The compartment doors open again.

"Hey, Ron."

Fred and George are back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," Ron mumbles. I tilt my head. They let those on the train?

"Harry, did we introduce ourselves?" the other twin asks. "Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother." He looks over at me. "And you are?"

"Rosaline…" I forget my new last name for a moment. "Laetus," I remember proudly. The twins seem confused as to why it took me so long and I can feel my cheeks turn a distinct shade of pink. "Um… But you can call me Rose… If you want."

"Well," Fred or George says after a moment, seeming baffled. "See you later, then."

"Bye," all three of us left in the compartment say together.

The twins look back once as they close the door and one makes eye contact with me. I smile politely and he grins back before sliding the compartment door shut behind him.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurts out, not two seconds later. Harry nodded. "Oh - well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes. Have you really got - you know..."

He points at Harry's forehead. I notice both seem uncomfortable, Harry especially, as Harry pulls back his bangs, revealing the lightning bolt scar.

"So that's where You-Know-Who-"

"Yes," Harry answers before the question is even asked. "But I can't remember it."

"Nothing?"

"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

I look out of the window as Ron and Harry continue their conversation, clearing my mind. I don't even notice the candy cart roll by. Luckily, Harry does and buys a little of everything.

"Do you want anything?" Harry offers me, motioning to the heaps of candy in front of him. Smiling shyly, I reach out and pick up a chocolate frog. I've never had chocolate before, so when I open it and take a bite, I am pleasantly surprised.

"Mm this is good!" I exclaim.

Ron laughs.

"With a reaction like that, you'd think you've never had chocolate before," he says with a grin.

"I haven't," I say matter-of-factly. The two of them blink in confusion. "What?"

"Nothing," Harry insists, before starting a conversation about the cards packed with the frogs. I eat the chocolate frog quickly, feeling stuffed after devouring half.

A round faced boy comes in our compartment for a moment, asking if we've seen a toad anywhere. Unfortunately, none of us have and he leaves, disappointed. Not even two minutes later, a girl with bushy brown hair and large front teeth enters, asking about the same thing. She notices Ron attempting to cast a spell on his rat, Scabbers, but it doesn't work.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the girl asks, speaking quickly. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Were we supposed to learn our books by heart? I hope not...

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron mutters after a moment.

"Rosaline Laetus," I introduce myself with a smile, remembering my name this time. "But you can call me Rose."

"Harry Potter," says Harry.

Hermione, of course, starts telling Harry of how he is in almost every modern history book there is, so I tune out again. I then overhear Ron telling Harry that a high security vault in Gringotts had been broken into, but the culprit hadn't been caught yet. It would take someone with incredible power to do that, I know. How did it even happen?

A few minutes later, the compartment door opens again. I look up and am greeted by the sight of the boy from Madam Malkin's. Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

"Is it true?" he asks without introduction. There are two other boys on either side of him, looking like bodyguards. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

I look over at Harry, who's clearly the one the boy is speaking to.

"Yes," Harry admits. He looks at the two boys on either side of the platinum haired boy.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," the boy introduces his friends carelessly. "And my names Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

That's not good...

I hear a slight cough come from Ron, which obviously disguised a laugh. Draco glared at him.

"Think my names funny, do you?" he asks angrily. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." He did not just say that. I watch in anger as he turns back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He holds out his hand to shake Harry's, but I'm proud to say that Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he tells Malfoy coolly. I beam with pride.

Malfoy's cheeks turn pink.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he tells Harry slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either."

"Clearly, you don't as well," I tell him fearlessly. I stand up and step towards Malfoy, my eyes shining in anger. He steps back. "You really don't know when to back off, do you?" I smile, getting an idea. "You know, my mother had a habit of ranting to me. I would pick up on things. One of her many popular topics was your family. I'm assuming you know who my mother is, right? Has your father told you that?" I ask mockingly. His face paling gave me the obvious answer. "I thought so." I smile. Anger is clouding my judgment, I know, but it feels so good to let it go. It was impossible to say such things with mother. Now that I can, I'm taking advantage of this privilege. "Would you like to share some of her thoughts? Or would you rather leave our compartment and not come back?"

I can see the conflicted emotions cross Malfoy's face. He wants to make a point, but at the same time, he knows I have information he doesn't want me to reveal. I'm triumphant as he steps back, out of the compartment.

"Come on," he tells Crabbe and Goyle, looking back to glare at me once more. "They're not worth it."

"Wow, that hurt my feelings," I call sarcastically after him. The door shuts and I sit down next to Harry once again. It feels almost as if a switch has just been flipped. I'm more in the mood to talk now, ready to actually participate in the conversation. It seems that my mind is finally off Mother, now that I've spoken a bit about her.

"Whoa," Ron says, the first to say something. "That was... That was incredible!" I grin, proud of myself for once.

"The Malfoys are just a family of cowards," I admit. "It doesn't take much to scare them away. The only thing they're good at is saving their own skin."

"How did you know that?" Harry asks.

"Mother told me," I say, as if it explains everything. She once complained to me about how they lied after Voldemort disappeared and said they were under the imperius curse and made to follow Voldemort. Thankfully, I'm saved from telling the story as Hermione walks in once again, greeted by the mess of candy wrappers.

"What _has_ been going on?" she asks, staring at the mess.

"Yeah, it kinda got out of control," I admit, looking at the wrappers. "We'll clean that up."

"We will?" Ron complains.

"Scratch that," I say, rolling my eyes. "I'll clean it up."

As Harry tells Ron about the time we ran into Malfoy in Diagon Alley, I get down on my hands and knees to pick up the mess. Hermione joins me and I smile at her, hesitantly. She grins back. We stand back up a moment later and Ron noticed that Hermione's still here.

"Can we help you with something?" he asks impatiently.

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Not fighting," I explain. "Just... Exchanging rather harsh words."

"Would you mind leaving while we change?" Ron asks, scowling at Hermione.

"There's no need to be so rude," I scold. "But since you two need to change in here, I guess I'll leave, too, and find somewhere to put my robes on." I turn to Hermione. "Do have any idea where the bathrooms are?"

We leave the compartment and another first year runs by, almost knocking us over.

"This is exactly why I went into your compartment," Hermione admits. "Everyone's acting so childish, running up and down the corridors."

"They must be excited," I tell her. I turn to look down the train and smile. "I know I am."

/

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" a familiar voice calls as I step off the train.

"Hagrid?" I say in surprise, quickly turning to Hermione who is looking confused. "He's the groundskeeper here at Hogwarts."

Our group of first years quickly come together to surround Hagrid, then we head to Hogwarts across a lake in small boats of four. I end up sitting with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, which is definitely fine by me. It's all so strange. It's only been one day and I'm already friendly with three people. I can't even imagine what the rest of the year has in store for me!

As I'm lost in thought, we are able to make it up to the castle and into the entry hall. We are greeted by a rather tall witch with black hair, who Hagrid calls Professor McGonagall. She takes us from there through the corridors until we are standing outside the Great Hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she announces. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend your free time in your House common room. The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will gain your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each one of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours. The Sorting ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

I look down at my robes and frown. Though new, they're a little bit wrinkled from being stuffed in my trunk for the train ride. Oh well, nothing I can do about it now.

"I'll return when we are ready for you," Professor McGonagall continues. "Please wait quietly."

Quietly? She actually expects us to wait quietly? We're eleven year olds stuck in a room together. We'll be anything _but_ quiet.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" I hear Harry ask and turn around, awaiting the answer myself.

"Some sort of test, I think," Ron replies thoughtfully. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Well, at least if it hurts a lot, I won't show it as much as everyone else.

After a visit by friendly ghosts who are very interested in us, Professor McGonagall finally comes back.

"Now, form a line," she instructs, "and follow me."

Quickly stepping between Ron and Hermione, I follow everyone else into the Great Hall. At once, my mouth gapes wide open. I have never seen a room so big before, or so decorated. Lighted by what must be thousands of candles, the Great Hall has four long tables where all the rest of the students are sitting. Though each table is lined with dishes and silverware, no food is to be found. The teachers are sitting in a table in front of everyone else, overlooking the sea of students. As I look up, I can't help but to gasp in wonder at the ceiling.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione whispers to me.

"It's incredible," I whisper back. We exchange a nervous smile, then turn to look at the front of the room again.

Professor McGonagall, as soon as I turn around, takes out a rather old and dirty wizarding hat and places it on a stool in front of us. I look at it for a moment, confused. What are we supposed to do with that? I can't think of a single thing, except put it on our heads. But what if someone has lice? Did they enchant the hat to stay clean? If they did, it clearly wasn't a good job.

Suddenly, the hat starts to sing. Seriously? A singing hat. What have I gotten myself into?

The Sorting Hat, as it calls itself, instructs us to put it on our heads, then details the traits of each House. Gryffindors are brave and chivalrous, Hufflepuffs are hardworking and kind, Ravenclaws are smart and clever, and Slytherins are cunning and ambitious. Good to know.

Professor McGonagall then instructs us to come up when our name is called, and starts listing names in alphabetical order. I barely pay attention to anything, until Hermione is called.

"Gryffindor!" the hat calls. I smile reassuringly at her as she goes to join the table. It'll probably be my turn soon.

Neville gets Gryffindor as well, and it is no surprise when Malfoy gets Slytherin. Of course, I realize now that they skipped over me. Maybe it's just a mistake and I'll come back in at the end. I was only accepted after my mother was arrested. Maybe they'll be adding me in at the end because of that chaos. Yes, that's probably it.

Harry gets called up soon and the hat waits for nearly five minutes deciding on him before, "Gryffindor!" The cheer he gets is one of the loudest noises I've ever heard, and I can just barely hear the twins screaming, "We got Potter!"

Then it gets quiet as the Sorting continues. Ron also gets Gryffindor. All my friends are in that House. Please, I can't be left all alone.

The number of people standing by me lessens by the second until I am the only one left. And with a "Rosaline Laetus," I walk up to the hat. It is placed on my head, and I wait.

"Well, your name isn't truly Rosaline Laetus," a voice whispers in my mind. "You're Cynthia Cambione's daughter."

"No, I'm not her daughter," I think. "She would torture me, starve me for weeks on end. I was her slave."

"Hm…" the hat replies. "Yes, that may be a more appropriate term, but blood wise, you are her daughter. You aren't very alike, however. In fact, you're much more similar to another girl I sorted, years ago. You both are extremely headstrong and stubborn. And you're just as difficult to sort as she was. Perhaps more."

"But that's your job, isn't it?" I ask, confused. "Shouldn't it be pretty simple by now?"

"Each person is different and each have their own challenges, some greater than others."

"Oh. I see."

"You, for example, have the intelligence of a Ravenclaw, the courage of a Gryffindor, the kindness of a Hufflepuff, and the ambition of a Slytherin. Though, since you've spent your entire life stuck in one place with no freedom, no characteristic stands out quite yet. To be completely honest, it makes this very difficult for me."

"Then what are you gonna do?"

"Put you where I think you'll thrive. See, I sense a great future coming for you. You've already shown that you have no issue standing up to people and voicing your opinion. So I think, perhaps, you would do well in GRYFFINDOR!"

The cheers start immediately, more than most, but still much less than Harry. I bet it's because now everyone gets to eat. I take the hat off, then walk quickly to the Gryffindor table, finding a place right next to Hermione.

"What took you so long?" she asks.

"What do you mean?"

"You took nearly seven minutes up there," Ron says across the table.

"Really?" I say in surprise. "Well, sorry to keep you from the food."

Hermione smiles at me and then Professor Dumbledore steps up to the podium.

"Welcome!" he exclaims. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

To my amused surprise, he's met with a large round of applause as he sits back down.

"That was," I begin, searching for the right word. "Different than I expected."

Ron snorts.

"No kidding," he agrees. "Whoa!"

He looks down at the table in amazement and I do the same out of confusion. What could make him sound so excited, but so shocked at the same time?

Food. So much food. I look down the table in awe. Surely this isn't real. There's just so much and I recognize none of it! I've never seen this much food in my life, which isn't very surprising, but none of the other first years seem to have either. My God. I could eat until I blow up and I doubt I'd even touch half of what's here. I lean over to Hermione.

"What should I have first?" I ask, truly needing the advice.

"I'm… I'm not sure!" she admits, mouth agape. "There's just so much!"

I scan the table again, then reach for a plate of steak. Then a bowl of potatoes. Then a plate of carrots and peas. Before I can take even half of what looks appealing, which is pretty much all of it, my plate is full. Stomach rumbling, I dig in.

Mother never let me eat anything as delicious as this. So much flavor, texture. Honestly, it's a bit overwhelming. All my life, I've only had bland, tasteless food, but now I can eat what I would cook for mother every day. It's even better than the food at the Ministry, which is garbage in comparison!

Completely focused on my food, I only listen vaguely to conversations about ghosts and the house cup. Then desserts appear and my mouth drops open once again. Pudding, cake, ice cream… Every treat ever invented can be found on this table. And I've never tasted any of it. Harry looks almost as excited as me, if that's possible. We exchange happy glances, then serve ourselves a bit of everything there.

As we all eat, the conversation turns to our families and blood status. To avoid speaking, I try to sink down in my seat so much that I disappear. Needless to say, it doesn't work.

"So, Rose, how about you?" Ron asks. I shift uncomfortably. Did he really have to ask me?

"Well," I begin. What do I tell them? I doubt sharing my entire life would be socially acceptable, but neither would refusing to answer the question. Ugh, I'll just give the basics. "I'm not entirely sure what I am. My mother's a pureblood, but I never knew my father. I think he might've been a pureblood, too, but that's just a guess."

From their nods of understanding, I'm pretty sure that what I said was good. There's no shocked looks or questioning glances, just smiles as the conversation goes on. Oh thank god. That was stressful.

With a sigh of relief, I look up at the teachers, scanning each of their faces. There's a man with greasy black hair, a man with a turban, a plump woman with curly hair, and a tiny man who barely reaches the table, among others. As I go along, I reach Dumbledore, who sits in a golden chair in the center. As if he senses my gaze, he turns and looks at me, as well. Before he turns away, he gives me an encouraging smile, successfully calming most of my nerves. I return the gesture, then return to the conversation.

Dumbledore proceeds to make a short speech outlining a few school rules, but I barely pay attention. Hermione will remind me later, probably, when I end up somewhere I'm not supposed to be. We are dismissed soon after and follow Percy Weasley, a prefect, up to the Gryffindor Common Room, encountering only a few obstacles along the way. Then the girls are directed one way, and the boys another, and we end up in our dormitories. I get a bed next to Hermione's, but it doesn't matter much. We're both too tired to do much except change into our pajamas and fall into bed.

"Is everyone excited for classes tomorrow?" a girl named Lavender Brown asks from across the room, yawning halfway through her question.

"Yeah," I reply with everyone else. I pull the covers over my head, finding the soft texture of the bed strange. Not that I'm complaining of course. It's a wonderful change from rock hard mattresses, or the stone floor.

As I fall asleep, I think ahead to classes in the morning and how exciting it will be to finally learn magic. I can't wait.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"You're going to pay, Rosaline."

Mother's unmistakable whisper comes to me the moment my eyes shut. I must be sleeping, that's the only reasonable explanation for it. Still, I shudder as my dream turns from the Great Hall to a small, gray cell.

"When I get out, I will find wherever you're hiding and I will kill you, like I should've done when you were born."

She's there in the corner of the cell, leaning against the wall but standing, her posture defiant.

"Mother," I breathe, too terrified to speak properly. She doesn't seem to hear me.

"When I find you, Rosaline, you're going to wish you never got me arrested!"

But… I didn't. I wasn't the one that got her arrested. She would blame that on me, though. She always does. And it never turns out well when she does.

"You better watch out. Because the moment I break out of these chains…" She looks down at the literal chains on her hands, then up again, eyes flashing. "You're dead."

My eyes shoot open and I find myself staring at the ceiling. Wait, that's not right. The bed has a canopy over it. I look around and see that I'm actually lying next to my bed on the floor, not in it. I must have fallen off it during the night. The other girls in the dormitory are starting to stir, so I quickly stand up and throw my blankets back onto the bed. Should I make it, like I used to do to Mother's each morning? No. Never again. I don't care if the bed is made or not and I refuse to bend to her rules even after she's gone.

After all, she's never coming back. She'll never break out of Azkaban, there's no way. Nobody has before. But of course, there's a first time for everything… No, that's no way to think. Even if she breaks out, I'm here, protected by the walls of Hogwarts. Mother will never lay a hand on me again.

/

The moment I step out of the Common Room with Hermione, I realize just how lucky I am to have her as what I think is a friend.

"Um, I think we came from that way last night," I tell her unsurely, pointing down a random corridor.

"No, no, it was definitely this one," Hermione corrects me, then pulls me in the opposite direction. When we get to the Great Hall the two of us sit down next to Harry and Ron, then dish up on sausages and pancakes. I still can't believe how delicious the food is here. Someday I'll have to find the cooks and compliment them. It must be such a task to feed all of the students and teachers.

"So, ickle first years," says a sarcastic voice to my right. Must be one of the Weasley twins. "You ready for your first day?"

"It really isn't that bad," the other twin reassures us. "You get used to Peeves creeping up on you-"

"And Filch breathing down your neck-"

"Not to mention the ghosts flying through you-"

"And the hexes that fly by your face in your hallway," one finishes with a grin. "It's nothing really."

"Well, good luck then!" the other exclaims before they walk farther down the table to meet up with their friend Lee Jordan.

"That's reassuring," I mutter, stirring sugar into my porridge.

"Oh, don't let them bother you," Ron tells me dismissively. "They're just joking around. That's what they're all about."

"Really?" I ask sarcastically. "I didn't notice."

Then the owls arrive. I know I didn't get anything, but it's still so interesting to watch them soar through the Great Hall. One of them drops a newspaper, The Daily Prophet, near Neville Longbottom. I peer over at the front page, then quickly turn my attention back to my breakfast.

It's her, front and center. Mother.

"Wow, look at this!" Neville exclaims, showing the entire table the headline. "The Ministry just revealed that it's arrested another follower of You-Know-Who!"

"Yeah, I heard about that," Ron admits. "My dad told me. Sounds absolutely horrible. I can't believe she didn't get caught for so long."

I can.

/

The first few days pass pretty quickly. Classes are really interesting. I never knew this much about magic. I can't say for certain which is my favorite yet, but I really enjoy Charms and Herbology. There aren't even any major incidents so far, except if you count me setting my desk on fire in Transfiguration.

Okay, so there was one major incident in the first few days. To be fair, we were working with matches. It's not my fault it was set off. I really shouldn't have been around one in the first place.

"What do we have today?" I ask Hermione at breakfast.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," she replies, not even looking at her schedule. I think she memorized it the first day. Fine by me, I like having a living schedule.

She leads the way to the dungeons, where we end up being the first ones there. After a crowd of Gryffindors and Slytherins joins us and the bell rings, we step inside and get ready for our first Potions lesson.

Like most lessons, Potions starts with Snape taking attendance. Unlike the Sorting, my name is actually in its proper place this time.

"Rosaline… Laetus," Severus Snape calls, pausing at my strange last name. I raise my hand quietly to make my presence known, then take it back down again. "That's a strange last name. Tell me, did you come up with that yourself?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir, but that is my last name, I assure you," I tell him, even though I'm sitting there, frozen.

What if he says something about my mother? I'm sure he knows, all the teachers must. Most of them have been very kind to me, probably because they know, but I guess Snape isn't the same. I can feel his glare. I know he doesn't like me, or any other Gryffindor for that matter. But he wouldn't tell everyone who my mother is, would he? I can't let anyone find out, what would they think of me? I'm sure Malfoy already knows, but what I hold over him is keeping him from telling. I have nothing to keep Snape from doing so, though.

"If you say so," Snape says reluctantly, after a long stare down between the two of us. As he continues with attendance, Hermione taps me on the shoulder.

"What was that about?" she whispers. I shrug in response and she luckily doesn't press the issue.

The lesson begins, but the moment it starts I can tell Potions will never be my favorite subject, due solely to the teacher. Snape seems to have it in for Harry and even begins Potions by picking on him.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape asks suddenly. Hermione's hand shoots up into the air next to me.

Personally, I have no idea what he even just asked. It seems like Harry doesn't either.

"I don't know, sir," he admits.

Snape sneers at him and I have to clench my fists to keep myself from slapping him across that smug face. Oh, if he does one more...

"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything." Don't do it, Rose. Don't do it. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione's hand shoots up even higher next to me.

"I don't know, sir," Harry says again.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Rose, no, you'll be expelled. "What's the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione actually stands up in her enthusiasm to answer the question, but Snape doesn't even look at her. I'm gonna kill him.

"I don't know," Harry tells him once again. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

I giggle quietly, looking up at Hermione, who's still standing. Harry's comment makes me laugh some of my anger away, even though I would still love to slap Snape. I'm not at risk of losing my head and doing it, though, so that's a plus.

"Sit down," Snape orders Hermione. She does reluctantly, still wanting to answer the questions. "For your information, Potter..." He then goes on to answer all the questions he asked Harry, but I barely pay attention. I already decided that I hated Potions, and I refuse to work at something that I hate. I promised myself I wasn't going to continue my old life. If I want to slack on Potions, I will slack on Potions. "Well, why aren't you all copying that down?" As students start digging for quills and ink, I stare Snape right in the face, but his attention is still fixed on Harry. "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

That's it.

"But _sir_ ," I begin, without even raising my hand. Even I can tell my tone is slightly mocking, drawing out "sir" for just a few seconds too long. "You didn't _really_ expect us to memorize our Potions book before school started, _did_ you? Because I don't think anyone did, except Hermione of course. Perhaps next time if you want us to memorize a book with, what, 500 pages full of information in it, you _might_ want to give us a few months warning… Or maybe a few _years_. But that's just me."

The room is silent and I can feel all the faces in it turning to look at me. Sure, my words were mostly polite and respectful but the way I said them, sarcastic and mocking, I wouldn't be surprised if he whipped out his wand right now and killed me on the spot. And from that look in his eyes, I bet he's thinking about doing just that.

"You just lost five points from Gryffindor, Miss Laetus," Snape tells me in a forced calm voice. "And got yourself a detention on top of that. My, my. A detention in your first week," Snape smiles in a disgustingly smooth way. "What will your parents think?"

"Well, I don't think my mother will mind," I say without pausing. "She has more pressing matters to worry about at the moment." I smile at him, but even I can feel my eyes sparking. He should have expected this from the moment he mentioned my mother. Now that I can speak my mind, I will. Snape should have known not to get in the way.

"See me after class," is all he says before he starts the lesson.

/

When the bell rings I almost gather my things and walk out with everyone else, before I remember Snape and detention. Well, this will be fun.

"I'll meet you outside," I tell Hermione before marching to Snape's desk, head held high.

He doesn't acknowledge my presence until every student has walked out of the classroom, and even then he waits a few minutes before looking up.

"Miss Laetus," he finally says. "I doubt you know this, what with your upbringing and all, but it is a general rule that children should respect their elders."

"I give respect where it's due," I reply. "You don't respect me, so I refuse to respect you." He stares at me, his expression impassive. "You shouldn't have brought up my mother."

"You shouldn't have disrupted class."

"I wasn't going to just sit there as you picked on Harry."

"Mr. Potter can fend for himself."

"Well, he wasn't saying anything in his defense, so I had to."

"And now you have detention because of it."

"I don't care. I can handle whatever it is you throw at me."

Snape glares at me for a moment. I can tell what's going through his mind. He's thinking of what he can do that will successfully punish me. He must know I can clean anything, without magic, easily, and most Hogwarts punishments won't bother me at all. I've had much worse.

"Miss Laetus, you are lucky the headmaster ordered the staff to make your first few weeks here an easy adjustment from your previous life," he says, defeated. "If he hadn't, I would have you go out into the forest to hunt werewolves alone. As it is, I must respect his wishes. Come here tonight at 7:00 for detention. The student cabinet for ingredients is disorganized. You and two others will reorganize it in alphabetical order." I nod. "That's all."

As I turn to leave, he says one more thing.

"Next time you misbehave, Miss Laetus, as I'm sure you will, the punishment will be much more severe."

"Thank you, Professor Snape," I say sarcastically before running out the door, not giving him enough time to say anything in return.

Yeah, I'll misbehave again. And next time it won't just be talking back.

/

The day passes relatively quickly, then Harry, Ron, and I go down to Hagrid's for a quick visit. He has a small hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, but it's very cute, in my opinion. And he has a large dog named Fang which I actually end up petting for the entirety of the visit.

Hagrid's actually amused by me getting detention in the first week of school.

"Yer gonna end up like those Weasley twins, I bet," he laughs. "Pullin' pranks five days a week, sittin' in detention the other two. Mark my words!"

"You're probably right," I admit. "Really, I'll spend more time in detention than in Gryffindor Tower. Guarantee it!"

As Harry and Ron prepare to leave and go to dinner, Hagrid asks if he can speak to me alone. I send the boys off, saying that I'll meet up with them later, then sit back down.

"How're yeh doin' here at Hogwarts?" he asks gently.

"It's… It's a bit of an adjustment, but I'm getting there," I admit, not wanting to lie to him.

"Must be hard gettin' used to it all."

"A bit." I smile, remembering the first conversation we had. "You were right about the food you know. It's a lot better here."

Hagrid grins.

"Glad yeh like it," he says. "One of the best parts of Hogwarts." He looks down at his hands for a moment, then back up at me. "Er, I just found out exactly what happened to yeh when you were living with your mother a couple days ago and… And I just wanna say if yeh ever need help, you can always come to me. It's gonna be a rough couple of months, not gonna lie. With the trial comin' up and all…"

The trial? Oh right, that is coming up soon isn't it. As in… Days soon.

"Right," I agree, voice trembling slightly. Pull it together, Rose!

"Oh, and Dumbledore wanted me to give yeh this." Hagrid reaches into one of his many pockets in his coat and pulls out a letter, then hands it over to me. "Now, yeh best be gettin' off to dinner if you got detention at seven. Yeh can read that on the way up. Go on, off yeh go!"

As I walk across the grass on my way back up to the castle, I unfold the letter Hagrid gave me and read it. Hopefully I won't trip over any tree roots while my eyes are on the paper.

Dear Miss Laetus,

As I'm sure you know, your mother's trial is beginning tomorrow and your testimony is needed to convict her. I have managed to convince the court that it is unnecessary to drag you to the Ministry and back again and they have agreed to let you testify without leaving Hogwarts. Please come to my office at 9:00 P.M. on Thursday, September 12 so we can proceed. Professor McGonagall has agreed to show you the way if you stop by her office beforehand. I will warn you, a Ministry official will be present to observe, and you will be given a strong truth telling potion before we start, to ensure that your answers are truthful. I'm sure this must be difficult for you, but it is unfortunately the only way that your mother can be convicted. You are exempt from your classes on September 13, however, so you have time to recover. I am very sorry.

Sincerely, Headmaster Dumbledore

No. No, no, no, no, no. I can't do this. I can't relive all of my life with her so soon. It will still be just as painful and humiliating, even if I'm in his office instead of the Ministry. I've just started to recover from a life of torture, now they want to throw it back in my face? I can't do this… But if I do, she gets locked up forever. If I do, she won't be able to touch me again. So I have to, even if I hate it. Even if I'll live in fear for weeks afterwards. In a few months I won't have to think about it ever again.

So I'll do it. I'll do it so Mother gets what's coming to her.

/

I step into Snape's office just after seven. I was a bit distracted by the food in the Great Hall and lost track of time, to be completely honest. From the expression on his face, I don't think my lateness helped improve his opinion of me. Oh well. It's not like I was trying to do that anyway.

"You're late," he points out.

"Yes," I reply matter-of-factly. "And?"

"Do you want another detention, Miss Laetus?" I shrug indifferently and Snape sighs in defeat. "Come on." He leads me to a cupboard filled to bursting with potion ingredients. "You are to organize these in alphabetical order. Of course," a smirk comes across his face, "I can't guarantee that each one is labelled correctly, so you might want to double check and relabel those that need it." He looks up at the clock impatiently. "The other two are late. When they get here, don't bother sending them into my office, just give them the instructions and set them to work."

"What if they don't show up?"

"I'll check in every few minutes. I'll notice." Before turning to go into his office, Snape looks up at the clock once more, then back to me. "Don't do anything stupid." With that, he sweeps his long black cloak into his office behind him.

Sighing, I look at the giant cupboard in front of me. He's joking, right? This thing is giant. I'll get it done, of course, but it will…

Wait a second. What is alphabetical order? Mother didn't teach me much growing up, only reading and some math. Nothing that isn't needed to keep the house clean. This alphabetical order… I wasn't taught it. If the other two ever show up, maybe they can do that part for me, but I doubt they'll ever get here. It's almost been ten minutes and there's not a trace of them.

Maybe I should tell Professor Snape that I don't know what alphabetical order is. Maybe… No. No way. I'm not giving him the satisfaction of me not being able to complete what sounds like a simple task. He won't let me forget it. But what else can I do?

As I'm pondering, I hear the soft creak of the door behind me. Is that my two other detention doers? I turn to see the Weasley twins, bright grins and all.

"Oh, did detention start already?" one asks, peering up at the clock. "Didn't notice."

"Rose?" the other says, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Detention, same as you apparently," I reply.

"What did you do?"

"Talked back to Snape." The twins wince in understanding. "You?"

"We may have set off a dungbomb in the halls," one explains. "Apparently the smell spread to here. Which wasn't our plan at all."

"Oh no, of course not," the other says sarcastically. I smile.

"Just so I don't get this mixed up, which one of you is Fred and which is George?"

"I'm Fred," the one that just spoke explains.

"I'm George," the other tells me afterwards.

"Okay, now that we have that settled, you mind helping out?" I explain what our task is, then the twins take charge.

"Well, the quickest way to get this done is to have two of us figure out which ingredient is which, then the other organizes them," George plans. "Fred and I can go through the ingredients and you can put them in the cupboard. Sound good?"

I say nothing. Can I tell them that I have no idea how to organize these in alphabetical order? Will they laugh at me? They seem like the kind of people to do that, not maliciously of course, just because they find it funny. But still, I really don't want to admit it. There's no other way around it, though, is there? I guess I have to. Feeling my cheeks go pink I open my mouth.

"Idon'tknowwhatalphabeticalordermeans," I say quickly. So much so, that neither twin understands.

"Er, sorry, what?" Fred asks. I go an even darker shade of red.

"I don't know what alphabetical order means," I repeat, much slower this time so they can understand. It's clear that they do, so when they look at each other for a moment, I prepare myself to block out the laughter.

"That's okay, I can do it," George volunteers quickly, to prevent more awkward silence.

I switch places with him and sit down next to Fred at the table, then we get to work. Other than Snape dropping in every few minutes to check on us, detention really isn't all that bad. Of course, I got lucky and, judging by their conversation, the twins did as well.

"I really can't believe Snape let us off so easy," Fred tells George.

"Me neither," George agrees. "Maybe he was just feeling generous on his first day back."

"Hang on, you two got detention on the first day?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yeah, figured we'd start off the school year with a bang," Fred explains. I shake my head while smiling.

"You're crazy, both of you," I tell them. Secretly, I admire their willingness to get into trouble to have a good time.

"We hear that a lot, don't we, Fred?" George says.

"Every day," he replies cheerfully.

A few more minutes pass, then Fred stops handing jars over to George. The two of us look over at him, perplexed, until we see what he's looking at.

"Yes," George agrees immediately.

A few jars of powdered dragon horn are sitting right in front of him and, judging by his expression, Fred is ready to steal one of them.

"What are you gonna do with that?" I ask curiously. I know it's obviously used in potions, or it wouldn't be here, but what use do the two have for a jar of it?

"We have a couple of potions we're, ah, looking into…" George starts to explain.

"Purely for academic reasons, of course," Fred adds on.

"Of course," I agree with a smile, going back to work as they hide it in George's bag.

The rest of detention passes relatively quickly and it's rather enjoyable, to be completely honest. Fred, George, and I get along pretty well, I think, so the conversations we have overshadow the frustration at the tedious task we were given. Eventually we finish, though, and Snape comes out of his office the moment we place the last jar in the cupboard.

"Done?" he asks. The three of us nod. "Let me take a look."

Even though they move aside, I can see the nervous look Fred and George give each other. Is Snape really gonna notice a missing jar of powdered dragon horn?

It turns out he does.

"You're short one jar of dragon horn," he alerts us, then turns around so he's facing our small group again. "I did not give you permission to take anything from the cupboard during detention. Who took it?"

Uh oh. I can see Fred and George looking guiltily at each other out of the corner of my eye, but before either of them can take the blame, I come up with an excuse.

"I'm sorry, Professor," I begin, doing my best to sound nonchalant. If this fails, all three of us get in trouble. "I dropped it as we were organizing." He seems doubtful. "The glass is quite slippery, you know. Don't worry, I cleaned it up already," I add hastily as he looks around for the traces of it. "It's in there, now." I point at the wastebasket in the corner, already so full of broken glass and ingredients that it doesn't matter that I didn't actually put the dragon horn in there. He has no way to check it.

"You put an entire jar of dragon horn into the trash?" he asks in disbelief.

"Yes," I lie. "Is that a problem?"

"Dragon horn is extremely expensive!"

"Is it?"

"You foolish girl!" Snape yells suddenly. I jump from the loud noise and flinch. Usually with yelling comes... Well I'd rather not think about it. "Why would you throw out the jar of dragon horn when you can fix it using a simple mending charm? Were you raised under a rock?"

"Why, yes I was," I say sarcastically. I can feel Fred and George's surprised stares, but I don't look away from Snape's angry face. "Didn't you know? I thought Professor Dumbledore told you."

The twins must think I just said that to piss Snape off, but Snape can tell what I really mean. That subtle mention of my previous life does wonders. Snape's angry face relaxes slightly, clearly as a result of him forcing himself to calm down. We stare at each other for a moment, both of us daring the other to say something, but neither of us breaks the silence. Finally, Snape sighs.

"Just get out," he orders, turning away. "Your detention's over, you're all free to go." Fred, George, and I all turn around to leave, but Snape continues. "But Miss Laetus…" I turn around expectantly. "Watch your tongue."

"Oh yes, of course, sir," I agree sarcastically before quickly walking out of the room, the Weasley twins close behind me.

As soon as the door to the Potions room closes, Fred and George start laughing.

"Did – Did you really just do that?" Fred asks once they calm down a bit.

"Do what?"

"Make fun of Snape," he replies, "and get away with it."

"I have special powers over people's minds. I can get away with anything," I joke, grinning.

"You're incredible," George tells me in awe.

"And we owe you," Fred adds. "Snape was gonna skin us alive before you stepped in."

"Oh, that was nothing," I tell him, waving my hand dismissively.

We eventually get back to Gryffindor Tower, where it seems like the entire House is still in the Common Room, still infected by start of term excitement. I spot Hermione in the corner, sitting alone, and start heading for her.

"Hey, Rose," Fred says before I can go too far.

"Hm?"

"Thanks again," he says. "If you ever need anything, we've got you covered."

George nods in agreement as I smile.

"Thanks," I say, trying to hold back my joy. "See you later."

As they walk away, I grin so big that my cheeks get sore in seconds. I know this is normal and stuff, making friends, but every single person that I become close to only adds to my excitement to be here, not back with Mother.

Mother. Her trial. I forgot that's coming up, distracted by detention. I have only a few days to prepare myself for questioning. Only a few days to continue blocking it out before it comes crashing in again. My grin fades. I'm really not ready for this, but then again, will I ever be? I guess it's better to get it over with now than remember all this later on, when I've almost forgotten all of it. No, I'm definitely not looking forward to the questions and memories, but I am ready to get it over with. It's time to move on.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days are extremely productive. Harry ends up on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team after the first flying lesson, an impossible feat for a first year. And it's not like he's one of the Chasers or Beaters, he's the _Seeker_. The only one in his position. It's crazy!

It's dinner, the night I'm supposed to testify, when he tells me and Ron about it.

"You're joking," Ron says in surprise while my mouth drops open. "Seeker? But first years never – you must be the youngest house player in about – "

" – A century," Harry finishes for him. "Wood told me."

"Harry that's one hell of an accomplishment!" I tell him.

"I start training next week," Harry tells us. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Then the Weasley twins come over to us to congratulate Harry on his addition to the team. Immediately after they leave, less welcome guests arrive. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" Malfoy asks.

It's a pretty long story, but Malfoy's convinced that Harry is getting expelled. He got on his broom during flying lessons when he wasn't supposed too, even though he was going after Malfoy, who stole Neville's remembrall. Long story short, Harry wasn't punished but given a place on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Because, yes, he's just that good.

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," Harry tells him calmly.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," Malfoy protests. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact." Harry seems confused. "What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," Ron lies. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Wow, they're making a much bigger deal out of this than they should. It's not like any of them could actually hurt each other. Maybe set off a couple sparks if they're lucky, but they're all first years. None of us actually know anything yet.

"Crabbe," Malfoy decides after sizing him and Goyle up. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

With that he walks away, leaving the three of us alone. Ron quickly explains what a wizard's duel is to Harry, adding that a second is someone to take over if he dies. Reassuring, really.

"Are you gonna come to watch?" Ron asks me.

"Er, no," I admit, stirring my soup without looking at either him or Harry. "I have a meeting with Dumbledore tonight."

"Why?"

"It's a… It's a long story," I say, avoiding the question. I should really tell them at some point… But not yet. Maybe at the end of the year. It's quiet for a moment. Seeing Hermione entering the Great Hall, I get up. "I have to go, Hermione and I are working on Charms homework together."

I know Harry and Ron are looking at me in confusion, but I refuse to look at back. I get that they're curious, but I can't tell them. I'm sure that Ron, at least, knows what my mother has done. He might not want to talk to me if he finds out. No, I can't tell them. I won't.

/

Okay, keep calm. Just keep calm.

As I walk to McGonagall's office, I can feel my heart beating in my chest. It's so fast that it's all I can hear, louder than my footsteps and louder than my frantic breathing. I can't do this. I was doing so well, adjusting to Hogwarts. Now they want to tear all that apart?

I'm standing outside her office now, but I just can't force myself to go in. Funny, how I'm supposed to be in Gryffindor when I can't even confront my own past. Oh, screw it. Let's just get this over with.

Before I lose what little courage I just built up, I rush into McGonagall's office. There she is, sitting at her desk, writing something that I can't see. As soon as the door opens she looks up and a sympathetic smile comes across her face.

"Hello, Rose," she greets me, getting out of her chair and walking up to me. "Are you prepared to do this?" Taking a deep, shuddery breath, I nod. To be completely honest, I don't trust myself to speak at the moment. "Alright, follow me."

She leads me down the maze of corridors in the school, neither of us talking the entire way. We come to a stop at a rather nasty looking gargoyle and I peer around. There's nothing here. No door, no room, nothing. I look at McGonagall in confusion, but she doesn't say anything to clear up the matter.

"Professor Dumbledore wanted me to warn you that some of the questions you will be asked will bring up extremely painful memories," she tells me quietly, unable to look me in the eye. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I don't really have a choice," I say. To my surprise, my voice sounds pretty steady. Hopefully I can keep this up the entire time. Oh, who am I kidding, that's not gonna happen. The moment they say anything about Mother, I'm gonna curl up in a blubbering heap.

"No, I suppose not," she agrees. McGonagall looks at the stone gargoyle next to us, then slowly says, "Chocolate Frog."

To my great surprise, the gargoyle moves aside to reveal a circular staircase, revolving and moving upwards. I guess the entrance to the office will be at the top of the staircase when it stops.

"Good luck," McGonagall tells me, before I step onto the staircase.

I'll need it.

/

Dumbledore's office is a circular room with many assorted objects in it. If I wasn't so terrified, I guess I would appreciate them much more. As it is, they don't catch my attention at all. What does, however, is the old wizard standing in the corner, holding a quill and a long piece of parchment. He must be here to record everything for the Wizengamot. The only other person in the room that I don't recognize is a short man with a green bowler hat. And, of course, there's Dumbledore, standing solemnly with a vial of a colorless potion in his hand.

"This is the girl?" asks the man in the bowler hat. He looks at his notes. "Rosaline Cambione?"

"Rosaline Laetus, actually," Dumbledore corrects him calmly. "She no longer goes by her mother's surname."

"Ah, of course," the man agrees, though when Dumbledore turns away, back to me, I can see his baffled look.

"Well, come in, Miss Laetus. Have a seat." Dumbledore gestures to the lone chair in the middle of the room. I walk to it, feeling myself shaking as I do so. Oh, I must look like such an idiot. I sink into the chair, clasping my hands together, then look up nervously at the man with the parchment. "Don't mind him," Dumbledore tells me. "He is only here to keep a record of your testimony. He won't be saying anything." My gaze turns to the man in the bowler hat instead. "This is Cornelius Fudge, the Minister For Magic." I nod in greeting, then look back at Dumbledore.

"Are we… Are we starting with that?" I ask, pointing at the vial. "That's the truth potion, right?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replies. He gives me the potion and I quickly drink it without giving myself time to think. It's tasteless and cool, like water. Seems like it would be easy to slip into anyone's glass without them noticing. Good to know.

"Alright, let's get on with it, then," Cornelius Fudge tells Dumbledore impatiently. "I have a lot of work to do back at the Ministry. The quicker this is done, the better."

"You were the one that volunteered to come, Cornelius," Dumbledore points out.

"Yes, well…" Fudge turns slightly pink. "I wanted to see the girl for myself."

"My name is Rosaline Laetus, not 'the girl,'" I blurt out, unable to contain myself. I can't tell if it's the truth potion talking or just me getting frustrated. "And please don't talk about me as if I'm not here." Fudge turns to me, surprised, but Dumbledore just smiles.

"It seems that Miss Laetus made her point before I could," Dumbledore says, sounding pleased. "But you're right, we should start." He turns to me. "Are you ready?"

"No, but I doubt I ever will be," I say, my voice shaking slightly. "I just want to get this over with."

"Then let's begin." He clears his throat. "Miss Rosaline Laetus, you have been called before the court to testify against your mother, Cynthia Cambione. Are you prepared to answer any and all questions the Court has for you?"

"Yes."

So Dumbledore's leading the entire thing? I thought Fudge would and Dumbledore just came for moral support. I guess this is better than a stranger asking the questions. At least he'll know which questions are harder for me to answer.

"Let's start with the basics," Dumbledore suggests. "Your mother has been accused of being a Death Eater. Did you ever notice anything in her behavior to support this claim?"

"Yes, every day," I admit. "She would often talk about her support of Voldemort's beliefs." I see Fudge cringe when I say his name, but I really don't care. My god, it's just a name! "Mother would often complain about his fall and the Death Eaters that wormed their way out of punishment. When she became really angry about it," No, no, Rose, don't, "she would take it out on me until she calmed down."

Damn it. This potion does a good job, I'll give it that.

"In what ways would she take it out on you?"

Uh oh.

"Torture. She mainly…" I can feel the lump in my throat beginning to form. That's not a good sign. "She mainly used the Cruciatus Curse in those instances, but beat me every now and then, too. Occasionally she would… She would pull out a set of knives."

 _"If I can't take my anger out on them, you will have to do as a substitute."_

 _"Mother-"_

 _"Crucio!"_

"How often would she do this?"

"Every day."

Dumbledore lifts his eyebrows, but says nothing in response.

"Do you remember any names of Death Eaters that escaped punishment?"

"Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Macnair…"

"All of which have been cleared by the Ministry of Magic," Fudge interrupts. Dumbledore gives him a warning look and the man falls silent.

"Did she ever plan to go out and hunt them down?"

That's a strange question.

"She planned a lot, but I doubt that she would have ever actually done anything. Sometimes… Well, sometimes she would demonstrate what she wanted to do to them… On me."

"Did she ever try to kill you?"

 _"If I see you wasting time ever again, I will not hesitate to kill you, you poor excuse of a girl!"_

"No."

"Why not?"

"I was useful," I admit. "If I wasn't so good at cleaning the house for her and catering to her every need, I don't doubt that she would have. She threatened to a few times, but it was just motivation to keep me working, I think."

"What chores did you do around the house?"

"Everything. I scrubbed the floors, did the laundry, cooked meals, washed the dishes, made the bed…"

 _Have to keep going. Have to make it spotless._

"What was a normal day like for you when you lived with your mother? I apologize in advance if I interrupt with other questions."

"Oh, er, okay," I say. A normal day wasn't all that bad. I can handle this. Or try to, anyway "I woke up at about four in the morning every day, I think. That was when the door to my room was unlocked, anyway."

"And your room was a small broom closet, correct?"

"Yes. There wasn't any room for a bed or any furniture at all, so I slept on the stone floor instead. There were no windows, either, so I couldn't tell time based on the sun or moon. I'm a light sleeper, though, so the click of the lock woke me up. As soon as my eyes were open, I would prepare the house for Mother. First I swept the floor, which took up the most time since the house was so large, then I started dusting. At eight I would begin making breakfast for her and set the dining room table. She would come down at nine to eat and as she did, I ate my breakfast in my broom closet."

"What would you eat?"

"Usually just small portions of burnt porridge and water. Sometimes it was only water. Every now and then she would allow me to eat the stale bread from weeks before as a special treat." Dumbledore looks horrified, but I'm not done yet. Not even close. "Breakfast was usually moldy, but you have to understand that, for me, I had no choice but to eat it if I wanted to survive."

"Did you ever steal food from your mother?"

I gasp in horror at even the suggestion.

 _"Rosaline! There's a biscuit missing from my breakfast. Did you take it?"_

 _"N-no, Mother."_

 _"I don't believe you."_

 _"I swear I didn't! Mother I swear!"_

 _"You know what this means…"_

 _"MOTHER, PLEASE!"_

 _"CRUCIO!"_

"Never," I whisper, my voice growing higher from effort to keep from crying. "I tried a few times, but she always caught me. Her punishments… It was never worth it. She would put me under the Cruciatus Curse until... Until I begged her to stop." I bite my lip. That lump in my throat is growing larger and larger as we go on. "Then she'd… She'd lock me in the closet for five days. No food, barely any water… But I had to get back to work immediately after she let me out or she'd do it again. Once I came out so weak that I almost fainted into the fire."

"What… What did you do after that?" Dumbledore asks. He sounds revolted.

"I kept working." He seems surprised, so I continue. "I had to. If I didn't…"

I take a deep breath and stare up at the ceiling to try to calm myself down, but it doesn't work. It actually has the opposite effect, and a tear falls out of my eye and trails down my cheek. I brush it away with a sniff.

"And what would you do after breakfast?" Dumbledore asks.

"M-mother usually left for work a-and I went back to cleaning the house. B-but she was always watching, even when she was away. I-I don't think she could hear anything, but if I messed something up, she knew about it when she came back. I made her b-bed after she left. It had to be p-perfect. No wrinkles, no messy edges. She always came back for lunch so I had to prepare that, too. I was n-never allowed lunch, there was no t-time for a useless meal. There was always j-just so much work." By now, tears are free falling down my face. "Then she'd go back and I'd continue with my work around the house. I-I sewed a lot in the afternoon. I made all her clothes. She d-didn't have the patience to hire someone else. I was g-given old rags to sew together for m-myself. After sewing, I made dinner. Mother c-came home and ate while I cleaned up. When she was finished, she would… She would…"

 _"You didn't clean the floors completely. I found at least two spots you missed."_

 _"But I scrubbed it twice to make sure!"_

 _"Well, clearly you didn't do a good job either time!"_

"She would what?" Dumbledore asks gently.

"She w-would punish m-me for whatever I did that day," I cry. "Even if I was p-perfect, she would find s-something to punish me for. Mistakes were… Mistakes w-were not tolerated. It wasn't q-quick and easy, either. She d-drew it out until…" A soft sob comes from my mouth. "Until she felt satisfied. U-until I was so bruised and b-bloody, I couldn't get up from the f-floor!"

I bury my face in my hands, more sobs wracking my body. Too much, this is all too much. I can't do this, I can't continue. It's like I'm back there in her clutches. It's like… It's like I'm living it all over again.

"My God," Fudge's stunned whisper comes from next to Dumbledore.

"Rose, do you need to stop and take a break?" Dumbledore asks quietly. I shake my head, no. I have to do this. I have to get it over with. "If you're sure…"

"When she w-was done, she would go up t-to bed," I continue shakily, my voice coming out in barely more than a whisper. "I w-would eat, rotten fruit and spoiled milk, then I'd c-clean the dishes and prepare everything for the morning. If I… If I had extra time I-I would clean myself up and make sure I was okay, b-but that almost never happened. I h-had to be back in the closet at one or it w-would lock me out and set off an alarm. I had to hurry t-to make sure I finished everything before I had t-to go to sleep. It usually worked, but sometimes it didn't…"

 _"Why aren't you in the closet?"_

 _"I'm sorry, Mother, I was cleaning the dishes and -"_

 _"Shut up! No excuses!"_

"I g-got about three hours of sleep most nights," I continue. "Sometimes t-two. I had no other time to s-sleep, so…" I sniff and wipe away the tears drowning my cheeks, even though more just come and replace them. "So I did the b-best I c-could. I took what I g-got, nothing more, but n-nothing less, either. That's… That's just how I had t-to survive." I want to stop there, but something forces me to go on, reveal the one thing I wanted to keep hidden. "I… I d-did think of ending it all, q-quite often towards the end, but I n-never had the c-courage to. And I g-guess that's… I guess that's g-good, because… Well, I ended up h-here, didn't I?"

I try to smile, but end up breaking down instead, sobbing into my hands. It's the only noise in the room, actually. Neither Dumbledore nor Fudge have anything to say about my story. I wonder if they were prepared to hear it. Maybe they thought it would be less violent, less horrifying than it really was. Maybe it's just harder for them to hear it in detail than to be told a vague outline. Either way, the two are speechless.

"Rose…" Dumbledore begins quietly, so I'm only barely able to hear it over my crying. "Did you ever consider running away? Or alerting anyone to your… situation?"

I shake my head, lifting it up a few inches away from my hands.

"If I r-ran away, Mother would've c-caught me. She w-was always watching, I had n-no chance," I explain, my voice shaking so hard that even I can barely understand what I'm saying. "And I c-couldn't tell anyone because I d-didn't know anyone. Mother refused to t-tell me anything about l-life outside the house. We had n-no visitors. There was no w-way out, until she got c-caught."

"And you'd be glad if she went to prison forever?"

I nod, unable to say anything through my sobs.

"I c-can't live if I'm afraid of her m-my entire life," I finally manage to say. He nods sympathetically.

"How did you feel when you lived with your mother?"

"How d-did I feel?" I ask, shaking. He nods. "I… I felt… Well, how d-do you think I felt? Happy? Hopeful? I d-didn't even know what those words m-meant, until I was rescued. B-but in there… Fear. I was a-always afraid. I w-was afraid of Mother, of what s-she would do to me, of when she w-would kill me, b-because I was sure she would eventually. I wasn't b-brave. I didn't risk p-punishment often. I was too… I was t-too afraid." What else? "Other than s-scared, I felt… I felt… Hopeless. L-like there was no p-point in doing anything, except to g-get away from the p-pain. There w-was no chance of escape or rescue, so why was I even t-trying?" I swallow, finding it much harder to force words out of my mouth now. "Every other emotion f-faded over time. I was t-turning into an unfeeling shell of a p-person. If I didn't get out… Well, I d-don't think I would've lasted m-much longer."

As soon as I'm done speaking, I bury my face in my hands again, unable to face any of the three men in the room. I can't do this anymore, I can't. It's too hard, too personal now. It's just too much. They're going in too deep. I look up at Dumbledore pleadingly and I think he understands exactly how I feel.

"Thank you for testifying, Miss Laetus," Dumbledore says, turning to Fudge and the recorder. "That will be all."

I continue to sob, but a warm feeling of relief floods through me. It's over. I never have to do this again. I can just lock that part of my life away and pretend it never happened. I can forget all about it.

"Dumbledore, are you sure we should end now?" Fudge asks.

"Yes," he replies. "All your questions have been answered, as you will find in the transcript, even the ones that were not asked. And I don't think Miss Laetus can go on much longer. I trust the two of you can find your way out of the castle?" Fudge and the other man nod. "Then thank you both for agreeing to do this privately. Have a good night."

The two exit the room, Fudge looking back at me curiously one more time, then they're gone. It's over.

"Rose, are you alright?" Dumbledore asks gently, coming and sitting on a trunk beside me. I nod, but both of us know I'm lying. The truth potion must have worn off by now. "It's all over now. You're safe. Nothing can hurt you, not here." I look up at him, still crying.

"If Mother escapes…"

"She won't," Dumbledore reassures me. "Nobody has broken out of Azkaban before, and I doubt your mother will break that streak." I nod, biting the insides of my cheeks to stop the tears. "Do you need to go down to the Hospital Wing? Madam Pomfrey will be more than happy to let you stay there for a while."

"No, I'm… I'll be okay," I tell him. I peer up at the clock. 11:00 on the dot. "I should… I should probably go back to Gryffindor Tower and go to bed. It's past curfew."

"If you think you're ready." Dumbledore stands and so do I. "I am very sorry about what you had to go through. If there's anything I can do for you, just tell me."

"Thank you, Professor." I smile in gratitude. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

And I go back out the door of Dumbledore's office, down the spiral steps, and out, away from the gargoyle. I'm not actually going back to Gryffindor Tower yet. Some people are still up, I bet, and I don't want them to see me like this, red eyed and still crying. No, they'll ask too many questions and I'm not up to any more tonight. Instead I set out in a random direction, needing to do something to take my mind off Mother.

Mother. I can still picture her face perfectly. Blue eyes, blonde hair pulled back into an elegant bun… Gorgeous, but terrifying. And when she yelled, with so much fury on her voice, I just knew that I was about to be in more pain than I could even imagine. And the way she would watch as I did the easiest tasks, waiting for me to screw up, for an opportunity to torture me even more.

I don't realize I'm sobbing again until a particularly loud one breaks me out of my thoughts. I give up, I have to sit down. I can't just keep walking forever. I'll wait until I stop crying, then I'll clean myself up and go back to Gryffindor Tower. But by the looks of it, that's not happening anytime soon.

Damn it Rose, think of something happy. Puppies, kittens, anything! But every time I even start to picture something remotely joyful, Mother's face pops up again and turns whatever happiness I have back into fear. My sobbing just becomes more and more hysterical instead of less, but there's nothing I can do. I give up. I can't stop it, there's no way. It's too late to go back and pretend it never happened. So, what do I do now?

Before I can decide on any course of action, two hushed voices echo from around the corner, laughing quietly.

"I can't wait to see her face tomorrow morning. Oh, it's gonna be great!"

The Weasley twins. Of course they'd be out past curfew.

"Wait, George, let's just check the map first," the one that must be Fred whispers. "I really don't want to get caught by Filch again."

"Good idea." There's the sound of unfolding paper. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The pair are quiet for a few seconds, then –

"Wait a second, George, look."

Pause.

"What? Why is she - ?"

"Beats me."

What's going on? What are they even looking at? I guess I'll find out in a few seconds, seeing as their footsteps are starting up again and coming towards me. I try to wipe my tearstained cheeks clean, but it's a useless attempt. I'm still crying.

The twins round the corner and spot me immediately. I guess they can tell that I'm crying, too, because they come hurrying over, worried looks on their faces. That's a new look for them.

"Rose, what's wrong?" one asks. I shake my head and bury into my pulled up knees.

"Hey, come on, it's okay," the other tells me. "You're okay. What happened?"

"Don't wanna… talk about it," I explain between sobs.

"That's alright, you don't have to." One of them pats my shoulder comfortingly. I think it's Fred, but I'm really not sure. "It wasn't a fat-headed bully, was it? We can take them down, if you want. Who is it?"

I smile, the crying slowing down at last.

"No, it wasn't a bully or anything," I explain. "It's… It's hard to explain."

"Try us."

"I really don't think I'm ready to talk about it." The twins nod. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, we get it."

"Got a younger sister. She cries all the time."

"Why?" I ask, curiously.

"No idea."

I grin. Not only have the sobs disappeared entirely since the twins got here, but the tears have slowed immensely, too.

"Have you tried asking her?" I ask, teasingly.

"Have we, George?" Fred asks.

"Don't think so," George replies, pretending to think. "Then again, we never want to get too close. She's crazy."

"Fair point," Fred agrees. I nod in understanding. "Come on, let's get back to the Common Room." He looks at me as if waiting for my confirmation of the plan.

"Okay," I agree after a moment.

The three of us set off through the maze of corridors, joking about Hogwarts and literally anything that the twins can think of. They are really working hard to cheer me up, for some reason. I don't understand. They barely know me, why would they stop and help me when I was just crying a bit? Okay, I'll admit it was more than a bit, but still. I don't think the kindness of others will ever cease to amaze me.

As we walk, the twins show me a map of Hogwarts that doesn't just show the outline of the school, but the people inside it, too. Most of the little name labels were in their dormitories, probably sleeping, but Filch is still wandering about, and Dumbledore is pacing in his office. I guess I gave him a lot to think about. I gave myself a lot to think about, too.

Finally we're back at the Tower, and, after the Fat Lady asks where we've been, she lets us inside. The Common Room is completely empty. It's past midnight now, of course it is. Everyone with any common sense at all is asleep. Clearly, I am not one of them.

"You should go to bed," Fred advises. "A nice, long sleep should help you feel better."

"Thank you," I tell him and George. "Really, thanks so much for stopping and helping me out."

"Well, hey," George starts. "We owed you from detention."

"Guess we're even, then," I offer. Fred snorts in laughter.

"Not even close," he claims. "No, we owe you a lifetime of servitude. But this'll do for now, I guess."

I laugh, then look at the stairs to the dormitories. Suddenly, sleep is sounding very appealing.

"Alright then, goodnight," I tell them. "Time for some much needed sleep."

"Gotta agree with you there," George says with a yawn.

"Night, Rose," Fred says as I head up the stairs to my bed. "See you tomorrow."

I change into my pajamas in barely two seconds, then climb into bed, still not used to the softness of the mattress and blankets. It will become normal, though. This is my life now. Mother can't ruin it anymore. I refuse to let her.

Still, as I drift off to sleep, she's there. She may be in the back of my mind, not immediately noticeable, but she's still watching, waiting. Finding the perfect time to strike back.


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning, Harry and Ron describe the previous night's adventures, while Hermione says nothing, clearly disapproving of them wandering around past curfew, even though she was with them. Turns out that Malfoy's "duel" was just a trick to try and get Harry and Ron caught by Filch. They managed to get away, but had to hide in the restricted section of the third floor to do so. And what they found there was the most surprising part.

"It was a giant, three headed dog!" Ron explains excitedly over breakfast. "And then it tried to attack us and nearly bit my head off!" I look at him doubtfully. "Okay, well, maybe it didn't try to bite my head off, but we were still lucky to escape with our lives!"

In fact, their little adventure is the only thing they talk about for weeks. During this time, the Weasley twins watch me extremely closely. I bet they think I'm gonna have another breakdown or something. It's certainly kind of them to watch out for me, but I don't think I'm at risk of one anymore. I haven't thought about… That since I testified. It's safely locked away in the back of my mind now and I doubt it will escape any time soon. They give up on it a week before Halloween, realizing that I'll be okay and it was a one-time occurrence.

On Halloween, a holiday that I really don't understand, we learn about floating spells in Charms. Each of us is given a feather that we're supposed to levitate by swishing and flicking our wands, along with saying "Wingardium Leviosa."

We're split into pairs and I end up with a girl named Lavender Brown who, to be completely honest, I find horribly annoying.

"And you won't believe what he said after that," she tells her best friend, Parvarti Patil quietly, while everyone is trying to cast the spell. "He said-"

"Do you mind?" I interrupt. I know I sound impatient, but really, it's been going on for nearly ten minutes.

"Just give me one more second," she says, before returning to her conversation.

With a sigh, I look back down at my feather.

"Wingardium Leviosa," I try, bored. It doesn't move a centimeter. "Wingardium Leviosa?" Nope. "Please just move…"

"Oh, well done!" Professor Flitwick cries across the classroom. I look up, then see Hermione's feather floating high in the air. A grin comes across my face. Of course it would be her. She's talented at almost everything she does. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

By the end of class, I'm no closer to raising my feather up. In fact, barely anyone else does it successfully. For those who do, it's very weak and doesn't float up all that high. Everyone needs a lot more practice.

I catch Hermione before the classroom empties completely.

"Hey, good job on the floating charm," I tell her as we start walking out the door. She beams.

"Thanks," she says, sounding very pleased with herself. "I wasn't sure-"

But she stops talking midsentence. It takes me a moment to realize why.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," I hear Ron say. "She's a nightmare, honestly!"

Oh no, he did _not_ just say that. I know Hermione was trying to help him with the spell in class when he didn't ask her to, but that's no reason to insult her. Especially when she's standing right behind him!

Without saying anything to me, or even looking in my direction, Hermione takes off down the corner, bumping into Harry as she goes by. To my horror, I can just barely see that she's _crying_.

"Hermione!" I try to call after her, but she doesn't turn around. Anger filling me, I march up to Ron and shove him so hard that he falls into Harry. Harry, in turn, comes dangerously close to collapsing onto the ground. "Look what you've done! What has Hermione ever done to you? Hm?" Ron can't seem to be able to look me in the eye and doesn't reply. "Just remember if she doesn't show up next class, or even to the feast, it is all your fault!"

Not waiting for a reply, I take off down the hall after Hermione, following her retreating figure into the girl's bathroom.

"Go away," her choked up voice calls out from the corner stall as soon as I enter.

"Hermione it's me, it's Rose," I tell her gently, trying to use the same voice Fred and George used when they helped me during my break down. "And don't try telling me to go away. I'm not leaving. Do you want to come out?"

"No," she tells me, sniffing. "No, I can't…"

"That's okay, take your time," I tell her patiently. It's quiet for a moment and I sit down on the floor next to the stall. "Do you want to talk about it?" She doesn't reply. "It's alright if you don't, I completely understand. It's just… Sometimes it's better to just let it out."

"I… I thought I was starting to fit in, make friends, but…"

"Hermione, you _are_ making friends," I protest. "I'm your friend, aren't I?" There's a silence. "Oh, come on, why else would I be here? I'm your friend, Hermione."

"But… You're my only friend. And you've got tons! You have the twins, Ron, and Harry."

"I'll only still have Ron and Harry if they apologize to you and become your friends, too," I tell her. "Otherwise, that's done with. And I expect they'll do that soon. I already took care of yelling at Ron for you, so don't worry about that."

Hermione laughs shakily, but she's still crying. There's a silence for a few minutes.

"Rose, you'll be late for class," Hermione finally says.

"I'm not going to class."

"You aren't?"

"No, I'm staying here and making sure you're okay."

"But what about the feast? What if… What if we're not out of here by then?"

"Hermione, we have six more Halloween feasts after this one. I'm not worried about it. What I am worried about is that you're crying in the bathroom and I'm really not sure how to comfort you."

Hermione laughs again. There's a silence, then, "Thank you, Rose."

"Anytime."

We sit in silence for a very long time, only interrupted by the soft sound of Hermione crying. At one point, Parvarti Patil comes in and says that the feast is about to start. Hermione refuses to come out and I tell Parvarti that we'll be fine. She leaves and we're alone again. It's been a couple hours now, I think. There isn't exactly a clock in here to check.

"I think… I think I'm ready to come out now," Hermione says about an hour after Parvarti leaves. "Just… Just give me a second."

"Take your time," I tell her, pleased.

As she calms herself down fully, I take a deep breath of relief, then wrinkle my nose in disgust. It smells horrible in here now, like rot and dirty socks. It's not a pleasant combination, not at all. But what could possibly be the source of that smell? I turn around in search of it, then stop dead.

"Hermione, whatever you do, don't come out of the stall," I order in horror.

"What? Why?"

The answer to her question is standing right in front of me. About twelve feet tall, with lumpy gray skin and short, stumpy legs, it stares down at me in brief curiosity. I notice a large wooden club in its hand, so big that it touches to floor. A troll.

"Don't scream," I order urgently.

"Rose what's going on?"

"It's a troll!" I yell, rapidly stepping backwards, away from Hermione. The troll follows closely, no longer curious, but wanting to crush me with its club. "Hermione, get out of here!"

There's the sound of a stall door opening and closing, then quick footsteps. Luckily, the troll's attention stays on me.

"The door's locked!" she calls, panicked.

What?

"Get back in the stall!" I scream. The troll turned its attention back to Hermione as soon as she started talking. Naturally, as soon as I finish speaking, it turns back to me and immediately tries to hit me with its club. I drop to the floor with a scream as it flies over my head, just missing it. I get up quickly, but the troll's already heading towards Hermione.

"Rose, it sees me!" she shrieks. "What do I do!? Rose!"

Only one thing to do.

Taking a deep breath, I rush towards the troll, screaming my head off to get its attention. It turns and just as it finishes turning around, I leap up and try to jump onto the thing. Unluckily, it sees right through my attempt and bats me away with its arm. I land with a thud next to Hermione. Ow, that fall really hurt. Looking up, I see the troll advancing even more, knocking the sinks off the wall as it comes.

I pull myself to my feet, unsure of what to do next. I don't know any magic, really. The most I can do, if I'm lucky, is make the troll fly. Somehow, I don't think that would help the situation much.

Just as I'm about to rush the troll again, the door opens. Looking over, through the troll's legs, I see the scared faces of Harry and Ron. Did they lock us in here in the first place? If we survive this, I'll kill both of them.

"Confuse it," Harry tells Ron. Then there's the sound of a tap from one of the broken sinks being thrown against the wall. The troll turns towards the noise and moves towards Harry instead.

"Come on, Hermione, come on!" I urge, but she doesn't move, petrified with fear.

"Oy, pea-brain!" Ron's voice shouts. There's a clunk as something hits the troll, then more of its heavy footsteps.

Suddenly, Harry's here with us, trying to get Hermione to move.

"Come on, run, _run,_ " he yells, trying to pull her towards the door. Wait, there's too many of us in one place. Too much noise. The troll will focus on us, then we'll be trapped. That can't happen.

I barely form a plan before running towards the troll again. It raises its arms, ready to hit me when I jump, but I don't. Instead, I drop to the floor and slide right between its two tree trunks of legs, ending up right in front of Ron. He quickly helps me up and pulls me back with him to the wall again.

Fortunately, my plan worked. The troll's attention is no longer on Harry and Hermione. Unfortunately, it's now focused on me and Ron.

"What do we do now?" Ron asks, panic on his voice.

"Good question," I say nervously, backing up as the troll comes closer. There's no escape route, not here. I guess the best plan would to be to distract it so we can get through, but I have no idea how to do that.

It seems like Harry does though. I watch through the troll's legs as he launches himself up and wraps his arms around its neck, his wand going up its nose.

"Oh my god, it's gonna kill him," I whisper, horrified. The troll is trying its best to shake Harry off and it's only a matter of time before it rips him off his back and hits him with its club. Hermione is slowly sinking down to floor in terror behind the troll and Ron is taking out his wand. Wait, his wand. What if… "Aim for its club!" I advise, knowing which spell he's going to perform.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouts, doing exactly what I told him to.

Just like I thought, the club floats out of the troll's hand and rises higher and higher until –

THWACK!

The club falls right on the troll's head, then onto the ground. The troll sways once before falling over with a thud, apparently unconscious.

As soon as it hits the ground, I relax, sinking against the wall in relief. It's quiet for a moment.

"Is it – dead?" Hermione asks, the first to say anything.

"I don't think so," Harry speculates. "I think it's just been knocked out."

As he leans down to pick up his wand, I finally find my voice.

"What the hell just happened?" I ask, running over to Hermione and pulling her off the floor.

"Troll attack," Ron says.

"Really? I didn't realize -"

I'm cut off by the slamming of the bathroom door and thunderous footsteps filling the room. Of course, the teachers. We were making such a racket I can't believe they didn't arrive earlier. It's McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell. Quirrell, of course, doesn't react well, having to sit down on a toilet in shock.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" McGonagall asks furiously, staring at Ron and Harry. Hermione are saved from the brunt of her glare by hiding next to the wall in the shadows. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Uh oh. They'll get into trouble even if they tell the truth, for making fun of Hermione. I have to do something.

"Professor, they were looking for us," I say truthfully, stepping farther into the light with Hermione. McGonagall turns to us, looking stunned. "We had to use the restroom during the feast so we left. I guess that was before the troll announcement was made?" I look at Harry and Ron, who nod. "Anyway, the troll came in here when we were about to leave. Harry and Ron must have heard us saying where we were going at the feast, so they came to find us and warn us, I think. If they didn't… Well, Hermione and I would probably be dead right now."

"It's true, Professor," Hermione agrees. "If we knew a troll was wandering around, we would've stayed with our House. Really, Harry and Ron saved our lives. The troll was very close to finishing us off when they arrived, they didn't have time to fetch anyone."

"Well – in that case…" McGonagall just stares at the four of us. "I suppose I can't take any points, seeing as you two didn't do anything wrong. You may both go back to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their Houses."

"Thank you, Professor," I say, before Hermione and I leave the bathroom. When we round a corner and get out of earshot, I start giggling quietly.

"Rose?" Hermione asks, probably questioning my sanity. "Why are you laughing?"

"We… We just fought a troll," I manage to explain between gasps. "And we… We won!"

"I really don't see how that's funny," Hermione tells me, even though a smile comes across her face. "We were this close to being killed before Harry and Ron came in."

"Please, if they didn't lock us in we wouldn't have been," I point out, calming down slightly.

"It's not like they knew where the girl's bathroom was," Hermione says in their defense. "They probably saw the troll come in, then locked the door without thinking."

"Hermione, are you defending them?"

She turns slightly pink.

"Maybe," she admits.

"You're right though, they did save our lives," I agree. "I really wouldn't want to end up as a stain on the troll's club. Did you see that thing? It was giant!"

We continue discussing the troll until we get back to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Then I look down at my messy, dust covered robes, then over at Hermione's.

"Maybe nobody will look at us when we go in," she suggests doubtfully, noticing our appearance at the exact same time.

She turns out to be wrong. The moment we enter through the portrait hole, every head turns in our direction. Turning bright red, I look down at my dusty shoes.

"Where have you been?" Percy asks both of us after a moment. Even he was taken aback by our appearance at first.

"…Bathroom," I say truthfully.

"And why are you so dirty?"

"Er…" I turn to look at Hermione, who shrugs unhelpfully. Thanks. "Well, there might have been a troll in the bathroom with us."

The once silent room erupts into shouts of disbelief. Percy looks like a fish gasping for air, his mouth opening and closing without any words coming out.

"What happened?" someone shouts over the rest of the noise.

"That's a question for Harry and Ron," I tell them. I look back at the portrait hole. "They're probably coming along now, you won't have to wait long. Now if you'll excuse us," I look down at my robes again, "We're gonna go change."

As we head up the stairs to our dormitory, I hear more shouts and look back. Harry and Ron are entering the Common Room now, and everyone's already begging them to tell the story. The pair look up at me and Hermione and smile. We return the gesture and wave before continuing up the stairs.

"That was one of the craziest things that's ever happened to me," Hermione admits, once we're in the dormitory.

"Yeah, that was pretty… Interesting," I agree. We both quickly change into clean robes, without any dust from the bathroom on them, then go back down to join the small feast occurring in the Common Room.

"And then I raised my wand and shouted 'Wingardium Leviosa,'" Ron's saying to a large group of fascinated listeners. With a laugh, I lead Hermione to the food. I'm starving.

"Well, here's to the most interesting Halloween in the history of Halloween's," I tell Hermione, holding up a glass of pumpkin juice. She smiles.

"Cheers!"


	7. Chapter 7

A week later, things are still going well at Hogwarts. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are closer now, probably just because they all fought a troll together. But, hey, as long as they're getting along, I'm okay with it. Classes are going well, with Hermione's help, of course. I don't have another detention, yet, which is good. Everything seems to be going perfectly.

It's the second week of November when things come crashing down again.

"I can't believe you just fit an entire piece of toast in your mouth," I tell Ron at breakfast, laughing. He tries to say something in return, but it doesn't come through the bread inside his mouth. "Sorry, what was that? I didn't quite-"

"Hey, Laetus!" a drawling voice calls from a few feet away. Malfoy. Fantastic. I turn around to face him, Crabbe, and Goyle, a bored expression plain on my face.

"What do you want?" I ask. He comes closer, until he's standing right in front of me.

"Just thought I'd share something with you," he claims, before tossing a newspaper at me. The Daily Prophet, of course. What does that have to with me?

Oh. Oh _no_.

 _Daughter of Accused Death Eater Testifies Against her Mother,_ reads the headline. My stomach starts turning.

No, he won't tell everyone… Would he? Judging by his face, I think he's about to.

"Here, let me read that for you," he offers, not trying to help me at all. He grabs for the newspaper at the same time that I do, but he's just barely quicker. He makes a show of unfolding the paper, very slowly, then clears his throat.

"Malfoy," I try to start, but I don't have anything to say. Instead, I just stare up at him, horrified, but trying my best not to show it.

"'Last night, the trial of accused Death Eater, Cynthia Cambione, took a surprising turn,'" Malfoy reads with a sickening grin. "Things looked grim for Cambione from the start, when she was first accused, but the latest testimony, given by her own daughter, sealed her fate. The girl, currently in her first year at Hogwarts, was questioned privately in the school, to make sure she was comfortable and less stressed during the ordeal. Although this was said to have occurred weeks ago, a transcript from her testimony was revealed to the Court just last night. Filled with graphic details of how Cambione would abuse and outright torture her daughter, it was enough to make an Auror sick.'"

To my horror, the article continues to delve into a summary of my testimony, revealing all the horrible details to those sitting nearby. They don't know that what he's reading is about me, yet, but I guarantee they will soon. If I could just do something… But I'm frozen, so terrified that I can't move. Eventually the details of my testimony grow fewer and fewer, and I can tell the article is coming to a close.

"'The girl's testimony against her mother was the final straw. It is extremely doubtful that Cambione will be sentenced to anything less than life in Azkaban now. After the Wizengamot heard quotes such as _'I did think of ending it all, quite often towards the end, but I never had the courage to,'_ and _'I took what I got, nothing more, but nothing less, either. That's just how I had to survive,'_ their minds were made up. There was disturbed muttering echoing around the court room when the transcript was done being read, and nearly everyone looked as though they were about to be sick. Though the girl never showed her face, it was hard not to feel bad for her. What monster would torture her own child like that? As the transcript of her daughter's testimony was being read, Cambione did not look the least bit repentant, however. This begs the question, is she incapable of feeling emotion? Or does she just hate her daughter so much that she feels nothing about the revolting torture she put her through? It's doubtful that we'll ever find out. As of now, Cambione seems set to spend the rest of her life in Azkaban. Hopefully the young girl, whose surname has been changed for her protection, will one day be able to get past the first eleven years of her life, but it might be impossible. She said it best, _'I can't live if I'm afraid of her my entire life.'_ But it seems as though the girl will not have to fear her mother for much longer. If the Court listened to her testimony, Cambione will be thrown into Azkaban for the remainder of her life, and her daughter will never have to worry about her mother again.'"

Malfoy looks back up at me, eyes glinting maliciously. I know I'm unnaturally pale at the moment, but it's better than breaking down again.

"How did you like that article, Laetus?" he asks, sounding excited. "Or perhaps I should call you Cambione now."

There's a loud gasp from behind me. It sounds like Hermione, but I can't turn around to check.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," I try to say nonchalantly. "My last name is Laetus, not Cambione."

"Are you completely sure about that?" There's rustling as he turns the paper towards me and the small group around me. "This woman sure looks like you."

It's over as soon as everyone sees the picture of Mother. Blonde hair, like mine, blue eyes, like mine, round face, like mine. It's obvious that she's my mother, and the silence around me tells me that everyone else sees it, too.

"Tell me," he continues. "Did you really consider killing yourself? That seems like a very weak move to me. Of course all that pain doesn't sound appealing either." Seeing my face, he laughs. I know I must look horrified, but I can't hide it. They… They know now. All my friends… "So, your mother was a Death Eater. Are you one, too? Did you just make the story up so you could escape punishment?"

I stand up, about to say something, but losing my voice. Malfoy and I stare at each other for a moment, neither of us breaking eye contact. Then he brings his hand up quickly and throws it towards my face, about to hit me. With a gasp, I flinch and throw my hand up to stop him, but he never makes contact. I carefully open my eyes, then look over at him. Malfoy still has his hand up, but it's barely moved forward an inch. Comprehending, I put my hands down at my sides again. He… He pretended to hit me so I would react exactly the way I did. He… He…

"I guess you aren't faking after all," Malfoy says calmly. I turn to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, horrified, but they're just staring back at me with the same shocked expression on their face.

They know. They know all of it. Feeling tears build up in my eyes, I look at them once again, but they are still looking at me, shocked. They're looking at me… Everyone's looking at me. Oh god, everyone's looking at me. I can't… I can't do this. I… I just can't!

Before I start sobbing, I turn and run out the doors of the Great Hall, leaving Malfoy and that horrible article behind me. Without thinking, I find my way up to Gryffindor Tower and, crying, go and sit in an armchair by the fire.

Why would Malfoy do that? Does he have no decency at all? Does he even know how hard it is for me to remember everything? And I wasn't going to tell my friends, not for a while anyway, but now… Now they know who my mother is and what she's done to me. I doubt they'll ever look at me the same way. I'm sure they won't want to be friends with the daughter of a Death Eater, either. I probably lost them, just when I thought I was really getting to know them. Now they're gone and… And I have to start all over again.

This thought brings on a sob. Now what do I do? Maybe I should just tell Dumbledore that it was a mistake, coming here, and I want to drop out. That… That might actually be the best thing to do. But Hogwarts has been the best part of my life so far! How can I leave? I'll die if I go, I won't be able to take the outside world. But can I even take the inside world?

Before I can think of an answer, the portrait hole creaks open. Looking over, I see Harry, Ron, and Hermione entering the Common Room. They spot me, too, and immediately walk over.

"I… I didn't want to t-tell you," I sniff, unable to look any of them in the eye. "I'm s-sorry."

"Rose, you don't have to apologize," Hermione tells me, sitting in the chair across from mine and leaning forwards. "We understand. Having a mother like that…" She trails off, unsure of what to say.

"Do you hate m-me now?" I ask sadly, hiding my face in my robes.

"What?" This time it's Ron speaking. "Why would we hate you?"

"I'm the d-daughter of a Death Eater!" I exclaim. Though I'm still crying, my voice is becoming clearer. "Why wouldn't you?"

"Because you're not a Death Eater," Hermione tells me calmly. "You just lived with one your entire life… If you can call that living." She says this with pure hate on her voice.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Harry asks. I look up at him.

"I… I didn't know how you would take it," I admit. "And, well, I didn't want to remember it."

"Malfoy had no right to do that to you," Hermione says angrily.

"You should've seen McGonagall after you left, though," Ron adds. "She was furious when she figured out what happened. Gave Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle detention for a week. Something about scrubbing the Great Hall. I'm not completely sure, we were running up here by then."

I laugh a little, wiping the remainder of my tears off my face.

"How did… How did everyone react?" I ask, not completely sure I want to know.

"Well…" Hermione begins hesitantly. "Most of the Slytherins that heard were… Well, laughing. But everyone else wasn't!" she adds quickly when she sees my face fall.

"Most people were really supportive," Harry takes over. "I mean, some of them were shocked for a bit, but they broke out of it eventually. Lots of them looked ready to kill Malfoy."

"I've never seen Fred and George look so… Murderous," Ron says thoughtfully. "He really shouldn't have made them mad."

I smile at the thought of the twins getting Malfoy back. They'd probably hit him with dungbombs or something like that.

"How many people heard?" I ask. It's going to spread around the entire school eventually, of course, but I have to know who it started with.

"Uh…" Ron begins, thinking. "Well, other than us there was Fred and George, obviously. Most of the first years at the table. Percy, I think…" He shrugs. "I don't know who was listening the entire time, though. I think Neville was, by the look on his face."

"But the important thing is that everyone will probably be too, well, disturbed to bring it up much," Hermione tells me.

"Everyone's gonna know by the end of the day," I point out glumly. "And there are plenty of people who will bring it up. I don't think they'll forget it soon." There's a silence. None of them can think of anything to say at this point, they know I'm right. Everyone in Gryffindor and Slytherin probably know by now. Oh, the looks I'll get. I can't deal with those, not now at least. "I'm not going to class."

"But Rose-"

"Hermione, I can't. Not today."

"Then we won't go either," Harry says determinedly.

"No, you should." The three look at me doubtfully and I sigh. "I just need some time alone. I'll be fine, I promise."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"…If you say so."

Casting doubtful looks back at me, the three slowly leave through the portrait hole again. When I hear it close, I sigh and look down at the fireplace.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione are just too nice, really. They knew exactly what to say to calm me down and even offered to stay with me for the day. But no. I have to be alone right now. It's something I have to deal with on my own, and they can't help me.

I can't stay here, in the Common Room, though. People will be walking through all day and I'm really not in the mood to be seen right now. But where can I go? Not the library, there are too many people there, too. Not the hospital wing, I'd rather not be watched over by Madam Pomfrey. And I can't just roam the hallways, people will see me when they change classes. Maybe the girl's bathroom… It won't be comfortable or clean, but it will be mostly private. Sure, some people will come and go, but they won't stay long. Yes, I'll do what Hermione did and hide in the bathroom all day. Hopefully I won't be attacked by a troll this time.

/

I don't pass by anyone on my way to the bathroom. Class probably started already, leaving me alone in the halls. The bathroom is also empty, unsurprisingly. I choose the biggest stall and lock myself inside, then sink to the filthy floor. It's not that bad, really. My old closet was much worse.

And it's with that small thought that I start crying again. It's not anywhere near what I did earlier, but it's enough. Even though I'm not making a sound, I'm shaking while tears flood my recently dried cheeks.

Why did Malfoy tell everyone? That's a low blow, even for him. He had to know I would react like this. He read the article first, he knew what was coming. If he was in my position, would he want anyone revealing his horrible past to the entire school? I highly doubt it.

But I still have something on him, don't I? My mother would always talk about the Malfoys weaseling their way out of trouble. If I just let that slip…

Wait. It wouldn't even work. The Minister himself told me that they were pardoned by the Ministry, and he sounded absolute about it. And everyone else at school, or anyone with knowledge of the war, already knows that the Malfoys were Death Eaters, whether they believe they were forced or not. I wouldn't be revealing anything new.

So I have absolutely nothing on him while he spilled everything on me. Resisting the urge to track him down and rip him apart with my bare hands, I clench my fists. That little son of a-

The bathroom door creaks open.

"Rose?" a male voice calls. Either Fred or George. I really don't know.

"You're… You're not supposed to be in here," I tell him, quickly wiping my face clean of any leftover tears. I've stopped crying by now, but it's not like there are no traces left. My eyes are probably red and swollen now, and I probably look like a complete mess, just in general.

"Oh come on, we know you're the only one here. We checked!"

The map. Right.

"Well if you're here to check up on me, I'm fine and you can leave," I say, not trying to sound mean. It's just… I really can't face them right now.

"We didn't just come to check up on you." Then why are you here? "We came because we have a plan you might want to join in on. To get back at Malfoy."

I jump up and open the stall door.

"Continue."

One of them smirks.

"Follow us."

/

The twins lead me through a maze of hallways, going down the Charms room, then stop around the corner from it. Then George pulls out a piece of parchment, which I immediately recognize as the Marauder's Map, the one they used the other day they found me crying. They must think I'm a total drama queen or something.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispers, and the map comes to life. After taking a moment to make sure nobody's around, he turns the map towards me. "Malfoy's in Charms right now, which ends in…" He checks his watch as I stare down at Malfoy's name on the parchment. "Ten minutes."

"Why does that matter?" I ask, confused.

Fred pulls out three pairs of gloves from his bag and hands a pair each to me and George.

"You might want to put those on," he advises. I do what he says

Then Fred sticks his hand back in the bag and pulls out three circular disks with teeth surrounding the edge of them. I stare at them, mouth wide open. What are those for? Are we killing Malfoy with them? Because I'm so ready for that.

"Fanged Frisbees," he explains. "Got them from Zonko's joke shop when we went into Hogsmeade. We wanted to save them for something special, and we agreed that this counts." I nod, confused. Why the hell would they sell these in a joke shop? "So as soon as Malfoy comes out that door, we throw them at them, then start running. The Frisbees can take it from there." He sighs, sounding disappointed. "Now, they won't kill him, but they'll cut up his face pretty bad. What do you think?"

I smile gleefully, then think for a moment.

"How do you throw them?" I ask.

"Easy," George replies, taking his from Fred to demonstrate. "You just…" He swings his arm back, then quickly flicks it forward, without releasing the Frisbee. "Doesn't matter where you aim, these beauties won't land until they give everyone a bloody face. Hopefully Malfoy will come out first so everyone else can just close the door, but if he doesn't," George shrugs, "Collateral damage."

"The Slytherins always come out of lessons first, though, so I don't think we'll hit any Ravenclaws," Fred reassures me, seeing my doubtful face. "And first year Slytherins are especially horrible this term, so I really don't mind bloodying a couple of their faces up."

"Okay," I agree finally, reaching out for my Frisbee. Fred hands it to me with a grin.

"Don't drop it," he warns. "I really don't want this to backfire on us."

We sit in tense silence for a few minutes, waiting for the bell to dismiss the class. I'll admit, I'm looking forward to getting my revenge on Malfoy. If he wants to make fun of me, fine. I'll just have to mess up his pretty face later. He's getting less than what he deserves, still, but this won't be the last thing I do to him. Oh, he's going to regret ever opening his fat mouth in the first place.

Then the bell rings and the three of us jump into action.

"Oh, good, he is coming out first," George informs us. "And… Here he is."

I see the door open and Malfoy strutting out proudly, as if he owns the entire castle.

"Count of three," Fred whispers. "One…" Everyone else seems to be really slow coming out. "Two…" Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle are still the only ones in the hallway. "Three!"

Fred, George, and I launch the Fanged Frisbees at the exact same time, and they soar down the corridor to exactly where Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle are standing. As soon as I hear shrieks coming from their general direction, I know it worked. I risk a quick peek around the corner to see them and almost die from laughter.

The three of them are getting dive bombed by the Fanged Frisbees and, even though they're trying to hit them with their books, the Frisbees aren't stopping. To my amusement, Malfoy has five long scratches along his face already. Before I can look at Crabbe and Goyle, though, I'm pulled back.

"Come on, move!" Fred tells me urgently. We turn around and are about to sprint away, when we're stopped by a black haired witch standing in our way, an angry look on her face. McGonagall.

"You do know that Fanged Frisbees are not permitted in the hallways, don't you?" she asks sternly. I look from Fred to George, but they aren't looking back. Instead they're staring at their feet. After a moment, both of them nod and McGonagall sighs. "You should get back to the Common Room before Filch comes around." There's a brief silence. "Well, go on!"

"Yes, Professor," George says in awe.

I'm just staring up at her, frozen with shock. McGonagall letting us off? That's a first… A hand wraps around my wrist and starts tugging me forward.

"Come on," Fred whispers. After we're around the corner, he pulls me into a run, with George following close behind.

"Yeah, don't want her changing her mind," George agrees as we sprint up to the Gryffindor Common Room. As soon as the portrait hole closes behind us, we all start laughing.

"Malfoy's face," I gasp. George imitates the shocked expression and attempt to bat the Frisbees out of the air. This makes me laugh so hard that I have to sit down in one of the nearby armchairs.

"Do you feel better now?" Fred asks, once we calm down. I nod. "He deserved worse, but since murder is illegal…"

"Thank you both so much," I tell them, getting to my feet again. "I owe you."

"How about we stop owing each other and just consider each of us to be permanently in the other's debt?" Fred suggests. I smile.

"Sounds good to me."

/

The next day, when I go back to class, I do get stares from nearly everyone, but the combined efforts of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the twins when I see them keep me from thinking about it too much. The Slytherins are a bit harder to ignore with their quotes from the article, but it's not all of them. Even most of their House has a line they won't cross, and that article seems like it's pretty far across it. It's really only Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson's group that keep doing it. Even they grow quiet after a week or so, finally leaving me alone. And the day that they stop, something miraculous happens.

I'm at breakfast, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, when the owls come flying in.

"I love how they just fly over you and somehow don't get feathers in your cereal," I tell Hermione admiringly. She just grins and shakes her head.

Then a large tawny owl lands at the Gryffindor table, right in front of me, with a note tied to its leg. I take the note, confused, and it flies away.

"That's weird," I muse. "I never get mail."

"Come on, then, open it," Ron tells me.

I unfold the note, then quickly read the writing inside.

Dear Miss Laetus,

Your mother's trial has officially ended, after lasting nearly four months. I am pleased to tell you that she was found guilty, and will be spending the rest of her days in Azkaban prison. The evidence on her was overwhelming, and it was a unanimous decision. Your testimony was perhaps the most influential piece of evidence that there was. Even though she did not have the Dark Mark to distinguish her as a Death Eater, due most likely to her being a spy, your testimony saying that she was managed to convince the Court. You did an incredible job during the trial, and I hope that you can now move on from this experience. Congratulations.

Sincerely, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore

"She was found guilty!" I shout gleefully. "Mother… My mother was found guilty!"

"What?" Hermione asks excitedly.

I read the note aloud to everyone around me, including Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George. Their reactions are almost all the same. Cheering, congratulating me, shouts of happiness… Everyone does something along those lines.

Soon enough the message is passed along the Gryffindor table, then around the Great Hall altogether. Some people come up to me to say they're happy for me, while others just turn and smile. Most of the Slytherins are muttering, clearly conflicted between joy at a horrible child abuser being put in prison and sadness that another Death Eater, like some of their parents, was now being locked up. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, however, seem very disappointed. Their faces no longer bear the cuts from the Fanged Frisbees, but I bet they still remember them.

Even with mostly positive reactions around me, none compare to what I'm feeling. Relief, joy, peace at last. It's enough to make me cry.

And I do, in fact. The tears are slow, unlike my previous outbursts, and are born from happiness rather than fear. Hermione, too, starts crying with me, caught up in the emotion. We turn to each other and hug, both of us glad that it's finally over.

I never have to think about Mother ever again.


End file.
